US Herod slew, Willing to slay the infant Christ, our Lord. But from the sword Our tender life in globes of lighted dew Trickled and twinkling ran Before Him to the waste Egyptian, Gilding His way like glow-worms on the sward. Now in His house He draweth us to deck the Christmas fir From chest of myrrh; Whom as Aunt Mary bindeth on the boughs, Her eyes drop happy rain For sorrow past—and lo! we live again As babies trembling in the tears of her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAINY SEASON by CLARENCE MAJOR GOLD-OF-OPHIR ROSES by GRACE ATHERTON DENNEN THE MILKMAID'S SONG by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL THE BELLS OF HEAVEN by RALPH HODGSON HAWTHORNE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |