THE Christmas moon shines clear and right;
There were poor travellers such a night
Had neither fire nor candle-light.
One plucked them stars out of the sky
To show the road to travel by;
So that the Ass go warily.
She had all Heaven safe in her hold,
Hidden within her mantle's fold--
All Heaven, and It was one hour old.
Her hair under, over Him spread
His spun-gold coverlet and His bed,
Twined with His little golden head.
She sang and rocked Him to-and-fro
Such songs as little babies know,
With Lullaby Sweet, and Lullalo.
He had no need of moons and suns,
Nor the gold-crested bird-legions,
Singing their lauds and orisons.
The Christmas moon shows a cold beam;
He hath His Mother, she hath Him:
Together they sleep, together dream.
