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O Little Town Of Bethlehem
PHILLIPS BROOKS O little town of Bethlehem, ...

A Christmas Carol
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL What means this glory r...

The Shadow Of The Thunder-oak
Withered leaves still clung to the branches of th...

Hang Up The Baby's Stocking
[Emily Huntington Miller] Hang up the baby's...

Little Girl's Christmas
WINNIFRED E. LINCOLN IT WAS Christmas Eve, and Lit...

Christmas At Fezziwig's Warehouse
CHARLES DICKENS "YO HO! my boys," said Fezziwig. "...

Good-nature Or Parish Matters
Mr. Stanley had just reached the last stile in the ...





An Ode On The Birth Of Our Saviour






ROBERT HERRICK

In numbers, and but these few,
I sing thy birth, O Jesu!
Thou pretty baby, born here
With sup'rabundant scorn here;
Who for thy princely port here,
Hadst for thy place
Of birth, a base
Out-stable for thy court here.

Instead of neat enclosures
Of interwoven osiers,
Instead of fragrant posies
Of daffodils and roses,
Thy cradle, kingly stranger,
As gospel tells,
Was nothing else
But here a homely manger.

But we with silks, not crewels,
With sundry precious jewels,
And lily work will dress thee,
And, as we dispossess thee
Of clouts, we'll make a chamber,
Sweet babe, for thee
Of ivory,
And plaster'd round with amber.





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Previous: Cradle Hymn



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