COME in, dear Babe, and rest! Cold is the night and keen; Here is no Mother with her milky breast, Her long hair's silken screen, To hide from Thee the stable, poor and mean. There are no angel-folk Hung between Heaven and earth, Making the night a glory, and no flock Of stars that sing for mirth Because of the wonderful, long-looked for Birth. It is so dark and cold, Colder than Bethlehem was; Here are no sheets with lavender in fold, Nor even the pleachéd grass. Cold as a stone, cold is my heart, alas! But two gaunt beasts are here, Not meet for Thy delight; Ox of my appetites, misspent and drear, Ass of my folly light, Hanging their heads, Thy courtiers are to-night. Not like those innocent things That shook the bed for Thee; Here are no shepherd men, here are no kings With gifts in their degree; Cold, bare, and empty, yet wilt come to me? Cold as the clay, and hard, Yet wilt Thou come as of yore? I who have neither gold nor spikenard, Thou Hope as long before! For Thee, for Thee, the stable waits once more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APPLES OF HESPERIDES by AMY LOWELL THE DAY IS DONE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MODERN LOVE: 43 by GEORGE MEREDITH HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 13. ENVOI, 1919 by EZRA POUND HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY EMANCIPATION IN THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, APRIL 16, 1862 by JAMES MADISON BELL |