LITTLE, I ween, did Mary guess, As on her arm her baby lay, What tides of joy would swell and beat, Through ages long, on Christmas day. And what if she had known it all, -- The awful splendor of his fame? The inmost heart of all her joy Would still, methinks, have been the same: The joy that every mother knows Who feels her babe against her breast: The voyage long is overpast, And now is calm and peace and rest. "Art thou the Christ?" The wonder came As easy as her infant's breath: But answer none. Enough for her, That love had triumphed over death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR SISTER CAROLINE [DECEMBER 2O, 1860] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES MEMORY OF THE IRISH DEAD by JOHN KELLS INGRAM AN HYMN OF HEAVENLY LOVE by EDMUND SPENSER PEACE ON EARTH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS IMMORTALS by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN PSALM 100 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |