A Reed by the River/Revelation
REVELATION
"O mother! I dreamed of a little, fair child, in the dark, tonight."
But the mother she folded him close to her breast, and swathed him so warm and so white;
"O mother! . . . I hear the lowing of kine beyond in the stable bare! . . . "
"Nay, child, the viols and flutes are fine and the pomegranate blossoms are fair."
But the mother she folded him close to her breast, and swathed him so warm and so white;
"O mother! . . . I hear the lowing of kine beyond in the stable bare! . . . "
"Nay, child, the viols and flutes are fine and the pomegranate blossoms are fair."
"Mother, my mother, I dreamed again, that down in the market-place,
Wanders a child with eyes of pain, and grief in his lovely face!
With never a rest for his little, white feet, nor a place for his weary head,
I would go, I would go to the child so sweet, and bring him to my white bed!"
Wanders a child with eyes of pain, and grief in his lovely face!
With never a rest for his little, white feet, nor a place for his weary head,
I would go, I would go to the child so sweet, and bring him to my white bed!"
"Nay, sleep, my son, for the hour is late; there are none unhoused, unfed,
The watchman calls from the city gate, and the feast of the Inn is spread."
"O listen! . . . My mother, I hear a song so sweet and strange on the wind!
O let me but go to the throng below, that wandering child to find!"'
The watchman calls from the city gate, and the feast of the Inn is spread."
"O listen! . . . My mother, I hear a song so sweet and strange on the wind!
O let me but go to the throng below, that wandering child to find!"'
"Hush, little one, sleep! 'Tis the viol again, all children are sheltered and warm;
For dew lies white on Bethlehem's plain as thou on thy mother's arm;
The shepherds are guarding their little soft sheep and the skies so silent are,"—
But the child of the Inn, he smiled in his sleep; "O mother! . . . The Star! . . . The Star! . . ."
For dew lies white on Bethlehem's plain as thou on thy mother's arm;
The shepherds are guarding their little soft sheep and the skies so silent are,"—
But the child of the Inn, he smiled in his sleep; "O mother! . . . The Star! . . . The Star! . . ."