 | Irish Poems |  |
92
THE CHILDREN OF HEAVEN
To Nancy Campbell
The night it was jewelled
That gave Him birth
With the flight of small angels
'Twixt heaven and earth.
That gave Him birth
With the flight of small angels
'Twixt heaven and earth.
They were babies rosy,
Their heads soft-curled,
They came seeking, small roses,
The Rose of the World.
Their heads soft-curled,
They came seeking, small roses,
The Rose of the World.
Like a shower of starshine
Or broken suns
They were rising and falling
In millions.
Or broken suns
They were rising and falling
In millions.
When they came to the stable
Soft was their flight,
Some Rose Tree in Heaven
Shook down red and white.
Soft was their flight,
Some Rose Tree in Heaven
Shook down red and white.
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Soft as snows falling
They settled down,
Clad the poor stable
In a rosy gown.
They settled down,
Clad the poor stable
In a rosy gown.
Clad the poor stable
In gold and silk;
Their wings and their shoulders
Were white as milk.
In gold and silk;
Their wings and their shoulders
Were white as milk.
They peeped at the windows,
Perched on the wall,
Like birds in the autumn
When the Southlands call.
Perched on the wall,
Like birds in the autumn
When the Southlands call.
And who are these drifting
As soft as snows,
For little Christ Jesus
His playfellows?
As soft as snows,
For little Christ Jesus
His playfellows?
They are hiding and peeping,
Rosy and pale,
From the stable's shadows
And His Mother's veil.
Rosy and pale,
From the stable's shadows
And His Mother's veil.
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They are pushing and pressing
By the window-sill;
Between their wing feathers
They look their fill.
By the window-sill;
Between their wing feathers
They look their fill.
There's a rustling, a stealing
Of feet and wings.
Perched on the manger
One softly sings.
Of feet and wings.
Perched on the manger
One softly sings.
Come nearer, children,
And see Him lie
On the knees of His Mother
So quietly!
And see Him lie
On the knees of His Mother
So quietly!
Come all, ye children,
Nor fear the while
The frown of His Mother;
Nay,—see her smile!
Nor fear the while
The frown of His Mother;
Nay,—see her smile!
The flight of child-angels
When He was born
Made the morn of Christmas
A rosy morn.
When He was born
Made the morn of Christmas
A rosy morn.
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