NOW it was Mary dreamed this dream, Ere yet her Child was born In that poor place in Bethlehem, In that poor stall forlorn, Before the dark of night had fled From the white face of morn. She fell asleep, and dreamed this dream, That filled her heart with fear -- That she had died that One might live Whose life was very dear, And that she never saw His face Or dried His earliest tear. She dreamed that her own life went out -- Her life divinely sweet -- Ere she could press His little hands Or kiss His little feet, Or know the bliss that was to make Her womanhood complete. She dreamed she died before she knew The trembling joy to say, "I am a mother -- I, whose life So bleak was yesterday! I know at last that perfect hour For which all women pray!" O strangely came this dream to her, This dream of utter woe, While through the dark Judean night, Above the wastes of snow, A star flamed in the midnight heaven And set the East aglow. And ere the pallid dawn had come To break her sacred rest, She wakened, with a startled moan, And tears the bitterest, And lo! she felt two little hands Clasped close upon her breast! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF JUDAS ISCARIOT by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THE CHURCH WINDOWS by GEORGE HERBERT ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON [APRIL 6, 1862] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD TO A WESTERN BOY by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 14. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND - FROM THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE THREE FLOWERS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |