O' BETHLEM town to-night is cold, And Bethlem town is very dark; Down tumbling street, on upland wold Stirs neither wife nor patriarch; No travellers the inn-doors seek Where still the gust-stirred signboards creak. The dull, dumb shepherds of the heath Are warm beside their wives in bed; The mildewed manger chills beneath The wet thatch gaping overhead; The ancient stars are tired and dim, And no new star announces Him. Or is it that we cannot hear The least of spiritual songs, And know not some strange joy more near Than too familiar angel-throngs? Of Him the greater is our need Whose life has dwindled to a creed. Because we know the Lord once woke Unto a far-off people's pain, We dream, a numb bewildered folk, That He might think to come again And save, through new enlightening cares, A world more sorrowful than theirs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT OURS THE VOWS by BERNARD BARTON WERE I BUT HIS OWN WIFE by ELLEN MARY PATRICK DOWNING WHAT THE SONNET IS by EUGENE JACOB LEE-HAMILTON STEVENSON'S BIRTHDAY by KATHERINE WISE MILLER SOLOMON'S PARENTS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY DEPARTURE OF THE PIONEER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 16 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |