THE Kings have brought Him ambergris, The Babe, whose one delight it is, To creep and nest In the warm snows of Mother's breast. The Kings have brought Him frankincense, Who hath no need, this Innocence, Of aught beside His Mother's milk in a full tide. O'er Mother's breast His fingers go, Constraining that sweet stream to flow, So soft and small, To whom that milky world is all. The Kings have brought Him gold and myrrh, This New-born Thing whose Heaven's in her; To make His bed In the sweet place from which He fed. Myrrh, spikenard, such precious things The Kings have brought the King of Kings, Who, dronken-deep, Falls like a full-fed lamb, asleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHRISTMAS IN INDIA by RUDYARD KIPLING SUNDAY MORNING by WALLACE STEVENS THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL by OSCAR WILDE IN ENVY OF COWS by JOSEPH AUSLANDER STANZAS TO WILLIAM ROSCOE, ESQ. by BERNARD BARTON THE VOLCANIC ISLAND by CLIFFORD BAX RECIPROCAL KINDNESS THE PRIMARY LAW OF NATURE by VINCENT BOURNE |