Holy angels and blest, Through these palms as ye sweep, Hold their branches at rest, For my Babe is asleep. And ye, Bethlehem palm-trees, As stormy winds rush In tempest and fury Your angry noise hush;-- Move gently, move gently, Restrain your wild sweep; Hold your branches at rest-- My Babe is asleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PASA THALASSA THALASSA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TO MISS F. B. ON ASKING FOR MRS. BARBAULD'S LOVE AND TIME by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE BALLAD OF BAZILE BORGNE: L'ENVOI by IDA COLE BARTLATT |