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Christmas Song
EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS Calm on the listening ...

The Queerest Christmas
GRACE MARGARET GALLAHER BETTY stood at her door, g...

Old Father Christmas
J. H. EWING THE custom of Christmas-trees came fro...

Little Gretchen And The Wooden Shoe
ELIZABETH HARRISON THE following story is one of m...

A Prayer At Bethlehem
ANNE P.L. FIELD O pulsing earth with heart a...

The Christmas Carol
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH The minstrels played thei...

Christmas
(A Selection from Dreamthorp) ALEXANDER SMITH Sit...





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.





Next: Christmas Song

Previous: Cradle Hymn



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