The kings to the stable They brought sweet spice. Gold and silver, jewels of price. But the dove by the manger she would not cease Mourning so softly: Bring Him peace! The Kings of the Orient brought nard and clove. The dove went mourning: Bring Him love! Bring Him love! What would content Him in silver and gold, a newborn Baby but one hour old? Myrrh shall not please Him, nor ambergris, that hath the sweet savour of His mother's kiss. There is clash of battle, And men hate and slay: From the noise and the tumult she hides Him away. But His sleep is fitful on His mother's breast, The Dove goes mourning: Give Him rest; give Him rest! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEALALL by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS EGERTON MANUSCRIPT: 102 by THOMAS WYATT FIFTY YEARS (1863-1913) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE MESSENGER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |