Šrift:Väiksem АаSuurem Aa
CAROL OF THE BIRDS
Whence comes this rush of wings afar.
Following straight the Noël star?
Birds from the woods in wondrous flight,
Bethlehem seek this Holy Night.
“Tell us, ye birds, why come ye here.
Into this stable, poor and drear?”
“Hast’ning we seek the new-born King,
And all our sweetest music bring.”
Hark how the green-finch bears his part,
Philomel, too, with tender heart,
Chants from her leafy dark retreat
Re, mi, fa, sol, in accents sweet.
Angels and shepherds, birds of the sky,
Come where the Son of God doth lie;
Christ on the earth with man doth dwell.
Join in the shout, Noël, Noël.
Bas-Quercy
THE SHEPHERDS HAD AN ANGEL
The shepherds had an angel,
The wise men had a star;
But what have I, a little child,
To guide me home from far,
Where glad stars sing together,
And singing angels are?
Lord Jesus is my Guardian,
So I can nothing lack;
The lambs lie in His bosom
Along life’s dangerous track:
The wilful lambs that go astray
He, bleeding, brings them back.
Those shepherds thro’ the lonely night
Sat watching by their sheep,
Until they saw the heav’nly host
Who neither tire nor sleep,
All singing Glory, glory,
In festival they keep.
Christ watches me, His little lamb,
Cares for me day and night,
That I may be His own in heav’n;
So angels clad in white
Shall sing their Glory, glory,
For my sake in the height.
Lord, bring me nearer day by day,
Till I my voice unite,
And sing my Glory, glory,
With angels clad in white.
All Glory, glory, giv’n to Thee,
Thro’ all the heav’nly height.
Christina G. Rossetti
SONG OF A SHEPHERD BOY AT BETHLEHEM
Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,
Rest Thee now.
Though these hands be rough from shearing
And the plow,
Yet they shall not ever fail Thee,
When the waiting nations hail Thee,
Bringing palms unto their King.
Now – I sing.
Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,
Hope divine.
If Thou wilt but smile upon me,
I will twine
Blossoms for Thy garlanding.
Thou’rt so little to be King,
God’s Desire!
Not a brier
Shall be left to grieve Thy brow;
Rest Thee now.
Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,
Some fair day
Wilt Thou, as Thou wert a brother,
Come away
Over hills and over hollow?
All the lambs will up and follow.
Follow but for love of Thee.
Lov’st Thou me?
Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,
Rest Thee now.
I that watch am come from sheep-stead
And from plough.
Thou wilt have disdain of me
When Thou’rt lifted, royally,
Very high for all to see:
Smilest Thou?
Josephine Preston Peabody
Included by permission of the author.
THE LEAST OF CAROLS
Loveliest dawn of gold and rose
Steals across undrifted snows;
In brown, rustling oak leaves stir
Squirrel, nuthatch, woodpecker;
Brief their matins, but, by noon,
All the sunny wood’s a-tune:
Jays, forgetting their harsh cries,
Pipe a spring note, clear and true;
Wheel on angel wings of blue,
Trumpeters of Paradise;
Then the tiniest feathered thing,
All a-flutter, tail and wing,
Gives himself to caroling:
“Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee!
Jesulino, hail to thee!
Lowliest baby born to-day,
Pillowed on a wisp of hay;
King no less of sky and earth,
And singing sea;
Jesu! Jesu! most and least!
For the sweetness of thy birth
Every little bird and beast,
Wind and wave and forest tree,
Praises God exceedingly,
Exceedingly.”
Sophie Jewett
From “The Poems of Sophie Jewett.” Included by permission of the Thomas Y. Crowell Company.
NATIVITY SONG
The beautiful mother is bending
Low where her baby lies,
Helpless and frail, for her tending;
But she knows the glorious eyes.
The mother smiles and rejoices
While the baby laughs in the hay;
She listens to heavenly voices:
“The child shall be king, one day.”
O dear little Christ in the manger,
Let me make merry with thee.
O King, in my hour of danger,
Wilt thou be strong for me?
Adapted from the Latin of Jacopone da Todi by Sophie Jewett
From “The Poems of Sophie Jewett.” Included by permission of the Thomas Y. Crowell Company.
THE CHRISTMAS SILENCE
Hushed are the pigeons cooing low,
On dusty rafters of the loft;
And mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft,
Sleep on the fragrant hay below.
Dim shadows in the corner hide;
The glimmering lantern’s rays are shed
Where one young lamb just lifts his head,
Then huddles ’gainst his mother’s side.
Strange silence tingles in the air;
Through the half-open door a bar
Of light from one low hanging star
Touches a baby’s radiant hair —
No sound – the mother, kneeling, lays
Her cheek against the little face.
Oh human love! Oh heavenly grace!
’Tis yet in silence that she prays!
Ages of silence end to-night;
Then to the long-expectant earth
Glad angels come to greet His birth
In burst of music, love, and light!
Margaret Deland
Included by permission of the author.