THE Kings have brought Him ambergris, The Babe, whose one delight it is, To creep and nest In the warm snows of Mother's breast. The Kings have brought Him frankincense, Who hath no need, this Innocence, Of aught beside His Mother's milk in a full tide. O'er Mother's breast His fingers go, Constraining that sweet stream to flow, So soft and small, To whom that milky world is all. The Kings have brought Him gold and myrrh, This New-born Thing whose Heaven's in her; To make His bed In the sweet place from which He fed. Myrrh, spikenard, such precious things The Kings have brought the King of Kings, Who, dronken-deep, Falls like a full-fed lamb, asleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISCONTENTS IN DEVON by ROBERT HERRICK SCILLA'S METAMORPHOSIS: MELANCHOLY by THOMAS LODGE CHARACTERS: ELIZABETH RIGBY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ANOTHER SPRING by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN OUT OF THE SILENCE by S. MINERVA BOYCE SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 19 by BLISS CARMAN AN EPISTLE: ADDRESSED TO SIR THOMAS HAMNER (2) (VARIANT TEXT) by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) |