University of Virginia Library

So, when the Angels were no more to see,
Re-entering those gates of space,—whose key
Love keeps on that side, and on this side Death—
Each shepherd to the other whispering saith,
Lest he should miss some lingering symphonies
Of that departing music, “Let us rise
And go even now to Bethlehem, and spy
This which is come to pass, showed graciously
By the Lord's Angels.” Therewith hastened they
By olive-yards, and old walls mossed and grey
Where, in close chinks, the lizard and the snake
Thinking the sunlight come, stirred, half-awake:
Across the terraced levels of the vines,
Under the pillared palms; along the lines
Of lance-leaved oleanders, scented sweet;
Through the pomegranate-gardens sped their feet:
Over the causeway, up the slope, they spring,
Breast the steep path, with steps unslackening;
Past David's well, past the town-wall they ran
Unto the House of Chimham, to the Khân;
Where mark them peering in, the posts between,
Questioning—out of breath—if birth hath been
This night, in any guest-room, high or low?
The drowsy porter at the gate saith “No!”—
Shooting the bars; while the packed camels shake
Their bells to listen, and the sleepers wake;
And to their feet the ponderous steers slow rise,
Lifting from trampled fodder large mild eyes.—
“Nay! Brothers! no such thing! yet there is gone
Yonder, one nigh her time, a gentle one!
With him that seemed her spouse—of Galilee;
They toiled at sun-down to our doors—but, see!
No nook was here! Seek at the cave instead;
We shook some barley-straw to make their bed.”