While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night



Like small curled feathers, white and soft,

The little clouds went by,

Across the moon, and past the stars,

And down the western sky:

In upland pastures, where the grass

With frosted dew was white,

Like snowy clouds the young sheep lay,

That first, best Christmas night.

The shepherds slept; and
glimmering faint,

With twist of thin, blue smoke,

Only their fire's crackling flames

The tender silence broke--

Save when a young lamb raised his head,

Or, when the night wind blew,

A nesting bird would softly stir,

Where dusky olives grew--

With finger on her solemn lip,

Night hushed the shadowy earth,

And only stars and angels saw

The little Saviour's birth;

Then came such flash of silver light

Across the bending skies,

The wondering shepherds woke, and hid

Their frightened, dazzled eyes!

And all their gentle sleepy flock

Looked up, then slept again,

Nor knew the light that dimmed the stars

Brought endless Peace to men--

Nor even heard the gracious words

That down the ages ring--

The Christ is born! the Lord has come,

Good-will on earth to bring!

Then o'er the moonlit, misty fields,

Dumb with the world's great joy,

The shepherds sought the white-walled town,

Where lay the baby boy--

And oh, the gladness of the world,

The glory of the skies,

Because the longed-for Christ looked up

In Mary's happy eyes!