Holy angels and blest, Through these palms as ye sweep, Hold their branches at rest, For my Babe is asleep. And ye, Bethlehem palm-trees, As stormy winds rush In tempest and fury Your angry noise hush;-- Move gently, move gently, Restrain your wild sweep; Hold your branches at rest-- My Babe is asleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER JUNKIE by CLARENCE MAJOR EPISTLE TO JAMES SMITH by ROBERT BURNS FRAGMENT, ON THE BACK OF THE POET'S MS. OF CANTO I OF 'DON JUAN' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ON A FLOWER FROM THE FIELD OF GRUTLI by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE HAPPY WARRIOR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |