Little Christ was good, and lay Sleeping, smiling in the hay; Never made the cows' round eyes Open wider at His cries; Never, when the night was dim, Startled guardian Seraphim, Who above Him in the beams Kept their watch round His white dreams; Let the rustling brown mice creep Undisturbed about His sleep. Yet if it had not been so-- Had He been like one I know, Fought with little fumbling hands, Kicked inside His swaddling bands, Puckered wilful crimsoning face-- Mary Mother, full of grace, At that little naughty thing, Still had been a-worshipping. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF A HEATHEN by RICHARD WATSON GILDER WHEN I HEARD AT THE CLOSE OF THE DAY by WALT WHITMAN LINES TO BE SPOKEN BY THOMAS DENMAN.....WHEN FOUR YEARS OLD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE THIRD CANTO, OR FULL MOON by WILLIAM BASSE THE BROKEN PITCHER by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |