When Mary sings it seems a faint, Fond echo of some far bird's plaint, Some song of love and past delight From twilight grove or azure height Comes dreamily in drifting flight To me, and brings, on drowsy wings, Spring's luring, lulling murmurings, Despite the wind-worn winter's night, When Mary sings. When Mary sings, to-night, her quaint Child music croons, in sweet restraint, Soft slumber tunes, whose tones unite The mother's runes with ditties, light As infant fancies can incite. Before the blaze she sways and swings Her cradled dolls, and round her clings The glory of a sacred rite, When Mary sings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS AGING TOGETHER by CLARENCE MAJOR UNWANTED MEMORY by CLARENCE MAJOR DEAR OLD DICK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: ANTON SOSNOWSKI by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |