Part 14

And now she drooped her weary head, Within that comfortless manger, It might have been a palace bed, With canopy of gold instead, So little did she know or care.

Gentle Jesus, slumber mild, Lullaby, lullaby; Succored by a little child, Lull, lullaby.

You of children are the king, Lullaby, lullaby; Sovereign to all ministering, Lull, lullaby.

Grace you bring them from above, Lullaby, lullaby; They give promise, lisping love, Lull, lullaby.

And out upon the darkened hill, With all the quiet-pastured sheep, Charmed by the falling of a rill, Where in the pool it cadenced still, The little lad was fallen asleep.

All his young dreams were robed with power. And glad were all his vision folk; He wandered on from hour to hour, With Ezra, happy as a flower That blooms safe-shadowed by the oak.

But once before his dreams were told, He thought he saw within the deep Vault of the sky a rose unfold, Made all of fire and lovely gold, Whose petals seemed to glow and leap,

As if each dewy, crystal cell Were a great angel live with light, And trembling to the coronal, Merging in sheen of pearl and shell, With his great comrade, equal, bright,

Until the petals flashed and sprang, And folded to the central heart: Music there was that showered and rang, As if each angel harped and sang, Controlled by some celestial art.

The child saw splendor without name, And turned and smiled, and all the noise Of strings and singing sank; it came Faint and dream-altered, yet the same, Soft-tempered to his mother's voice.

Slumber, slumber, gentle child, Lullaby, lullaby; Sweet as henna, dear and mild, Lull, lullaby.

You the first of all the race, Lullaby, lullaby; Gave your master early grace, Lull, lullaby.

Gave a shelter for his head, Lullaby, lullaby; Took the chilly earth instead, Lull, lullaby.

Now take comfort infant earth, Lullaby, lullaby; Jesus Christ is come to birth, Lull, lullaby.

For his principality, Lullaby, lullaby; Children cluster at his knee, Lull, lullaby.

Hail the heaven-happy age, Lullaby, lullaby; Love begins his pilgrimage, Lull, lullaby.

WILLOW-PIPES

So in the shadow by the nimble flood He made her whistles of the willow wood, Flutes of one note with mellow slender tone; (A robin piping in the dusk alone). Lively the pleasure was the wand to bruise, And notch the light rod for its lyric use, Until the stem gave up its tender sheath, And showed the white and glistening wood beneath. And when the ground was covered with light chips, Grey leaves and green, and twigs and tender slips, They placed the well-made whistles in a row And left them for the careless wind to blow.

ANGEL

Come to me when grief is over, When the tired eyes, Seek thy cloudy wings to cover Close their burning skies.

Come to me when tears have dwindled Into drops of dew, When the sighs like sobs re-kindled Are but deep and few.

Hold me like a crooning mother, Heal me of the smart; All mine anguish let me smother In thy brooding heart.

CHRISTMAS FOLK-SONG

Those who die on Christmas Day (I heard the triumphant Seraph say) Will be remembered, for they died Upon the Holy Christmastide; When they attain to Paradise, The Angels with the tranquil Eyes Will ask if Jesus rules on Earth The Anniversary of His Birth; This Question do they ask alway Of those who die on Christmas Day.

Those who are born on Christmas Day (I heard the triumphant Seraph say) Will bring again the Peace on Earth That came with gentle Christ His Birth; They may be lowly Folk and poor Living about the Manger Door, They may be Kings of Mighty Line, Their Lives alike will be benign; To them belongeth Peace alway, Those who are born on Christmas Day.

FROM BEYOND

Here there is balm for every tender heart Wounded by life; Rest for each one who bore a valiant part Crushed in the strife.

I suffered there and held a losing fight Even to the grave; And now I know that it was very right To suffer and be brave.