Little Christ was good, and lay Sleeping, smiling in the hay; Never made the cows' round eyes Open wider at His cries; Never, when the night was dim, Startled guardian Seraphim, Who above Him in the beams Kept their watch round His white dreams; Let the rustling brown mice creep Undisturbed about His sleep. Yet if it had not been so-- Had He been like one I know, Fought with little fumbling hands, Kicked inside His swaddling bands, Puckered wilful crimsoning face-- Mary Mother, full of grace, At that little naughty thing, Still had been a-worshipping. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE DANCERS by LAURENCE BINYON THE GREEN ROADS by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS DEJECTION by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION WRITTEN .. AUTHOR'S BATHING AT TEIGNMOUTH, FOR THE HEAD-ACHE by JANE CAVE BROKEN RHYTHMS; IN A MEXICAN LABOR CAMP by AMANDA MATHEWS CHASE |