 | The hours of the passion and other poems |  |
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INNOCENTS' DAY
It was in the night of a winter mild,
Joseph and Mary talked and smiled;
And with them journeyed the Heavenly Child.
Joseph and Mary talked and smiled;
And with them journeyed the Heavenly Child.
‘Mother, three days has my birthday flown:
What gifts wilt thou give for my birthday crown?’
They came to the street of a Kentish town.
What gifts wilt thou give for my birthday crown?’
They came to the street of a Kentish town.
They stayed where a boy of twelve years old,
Pored over an ancient book unrolled;
His cheeks were burning, his hands were cold.
Pored over an ancient book unrolled;
His cheeks were burning, his hands were cold.
‘I struggle through darkness to know Thy word,
Give me Thy grace, and Thy help afford,
That some day I may be Thy servant, Lord!’
Give me Thy grace, and Thy help afford,
That some day I may be Thy servant, Lord!’
A hand on his shoulder Jesus laid:
‘Come with me to my school,’ He said;
And the boy went with them unafraid.
‘Come with me to my school,’ He said;
And the boy went with them unafraid.
A maiden pallid, with gasping breath,
The dews on her forehead, kneels and saith,
‘Take not my heart from Thy heart in death!’
The dews on her forehead, kneels and saith,
‘Take not my heart from Thy heart in death!’
Through the rising waters the tapers swim;
She felt His kiss as her eyes grew dim:
‘Be mine!’ He whispered;—she went with Him.
She felt His kiss as her eyes grew dim:
‘Be mine!’ He whispered;—she went with Him.
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Stupefied, shivering, at midnight's turn,
A child, with its lesson yet to learn,
Cowered under the rod of a master stern.
A child, with its lesson yet to learn,
Cowered under the rod of a master stern.
‘Come quick to my garden, come away!
Where I and my brothers always play.’
The child knew nothing but to obey.
Where I and my brothers always play.’
The child knew nothing but to obey.
They passed under broken walls, and hark!
They heard a wailing that came through the dark,
No light from the threshold the way to mark.
They heard a wailing that came through the dark,
No light from the threshold the way to mark.
They followed the crying to find the door,
—Three children huddled close on the floor,
The tears like rain down their cold cheeks pour.
—Three children huddled close on the floor,
The tears like rain down their cold cheeks pour.
There was neither fire, nor table, nor bed:
‘We have nothing to eat,’ the youngest said;
And the eldest sobbed out, ‘Mother is dead.’
‘We have nothing to eat,’ the youngest said;
And the eldest sobbed out, ‘Mother is dead.’
The Mother folded them safe from harm,
Her breast was soft, and her lap was warm;
Saint Joseph the basket took from his arm:
Her breast was soft, and her lap was warm;
Saint Joseph the basket took from his arm:
‘I plucked these cherries in Paradise Row,
Where my strawberry garden slopes below,
They are finer than any in Kent that grow.’
Where my strawberry garden slopes below,
They are finer than any in Kent that grow.’
‘Nay, but, Sir Joseph,’ Our Lady said,
‘It is so long since they last were fed:—
Give them the cherries, but first the bread.’
‘It is so long since they last were fed:—
Give them the cherries, but first the bread.’
‘Finest wheatflour from Holy Land,
Rock honey that dropped on the silver sand,
I kneaded them into cakes with my hand.’
Rock honey that dropped on the silver sand,
I kneaded them into cakes with my hand.’
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They went on their way with a gathering train;
The little children followed full fain,—
‘Father Joseph, give us the cakes again!’
The little children followed full fain,—
‘Father Joseph, give us the cakes again!’
The window was open into the night,—
A little chamber spotless and white,
And in the chamber a little light;
A little chamber spotless and white,
And in the chamber a little light;
By a little picture the light burned dim,
The Child and His Mother carrying Him,—
Two children rosy and round of limb;—
The Child and His Mother carrying Him,—
Two children rosy and round of limb;—
The innocent children had said their prayers,
Their souls were out dreaming unawares,
No bar betwixt them and the golden stairs.
Their souls were out dreaming unawares,
No bar betwixt them and the golden stairs.
His hand on their foreheads lightly lies,
He said, as He kissed their closèd eyes,
‘Wake with me to-morrow in Paradise!’
He said, as He kissed their closèd eyes,
‘Wake with me to-morrow in Paradise!’
A storm of blows and of curses rolled,
Where a woman unwomanly, hag and scold,
Shook her babe, her own, of two years old;
Where a woman unwomanly, hag and scold,
Shook her babe, her own, of two years old;
A little creature lovely and meek;—
Only the tears on its soft wet cheek
Pleaded the want that it could not speak.
Only the tears on its soft wet cheek
Pleaded the want that it could not speak.
The eyes of Our Lady flashed with fire,
She snatched the child, and her breast heaved higher;
‘O treasure of mine! My heart's desire!’
She snatched the child, and her breast heaved higher;
‘O treasure of mine! My heart's desire!’
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A babe was rocked on its mother's breast,
Its tiny fingers like wax imprest,
Its sorrowful moaning would not rest;
Its tiny fingers like wax imprest,
Its sorrowful moaning would not rest;
The little face piteous and white to see;
But the Boy bent over her eagerly:
‘Mother, O Mother, give her to Me!’
But the Boy bent over her eagerly:
‘Mother, O Mother, give her to Me!’
He stretched His arms;—but Our Lady sighed,
For she looked on the mother weary-eyed;
Softly she stepped, and stood beside.
For she looked on the mother weary-eyed;
Softly she stepped, and stood beside.
Some word in her ear she seemed to say,
As she drew the babe from her arms away,
And calm in her own Child's arms it lay.
As she drew the babe from her arms away,
And calm in her own Child's arms it lay.
At midnight the good Priest knelt in prayer;—
He had watched through the midnight many a year,
Not knowing what time would our Lord appear.
He had watched through the midnight many a year,
Not knowing what time would our Lord appear.
And all of a sudden he was aware
Of a strange light shining everywhere;
He went to his casement and looked out there.
Of a strange light shining everywhere;
He went to his casement and looked out there.
And he saw a procession of girls and boys,
Laughing and playing with silvery noise,
Singing sweet hymns of the angels' joys.
Laughing and playing with silvery noise,
Singing sweet hymns of the angels' joys.
Into the churchyard they trooped and came,
He knew each face, and he named each name;
And yet they were somehow not the same.
He knew each face, and he named each name;
And yet they were somehow not the same.
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And amidst them a lady fair to see;—
The little ones clung to her mantle free,
And she carried one of them tenderly.
The little ones clung to her mantle free,
And she carried one of them tenderly.
And a white-haired father, tall and kind,
His face to the children's face inclined,
Holding their hands as they walked behind.
His face to the children's face inclined,
Holding their hands as they walked behind.
And last of all, came a Boy, whose air
Was that of a king, with golden hair,
Carrying a babe with exceeding care.
Was that of a king, with golden hair,
Carrying a babe with exceeding care.
He caught the face of the Boy as He passed;—
He fell on his knees, and his tears fell fast;
‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘hast Thou come at last?’
He fell on his knees, and his tears fell fast;
‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘hast Thou come at last?’
Next day, as the sexton worked long and hard,
He said, ‘A green Yule makes a fat churchyard’:
But the Priest, ‘God has them within His guard.’
He said, ‘A green Yule makes a fat churchyard’:
But the Priest, ‘God has them within His guard.’
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