Poem by Edith Matilda Thomas

The Procession of the Kings

The little town is muffled all in snow;
  Yet there Weihnachten1 love is burning clear.
And on each door three letters2 in a row
  Proclaim the Three Kings' Day is drawing near.

Oh, then will Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar
  Ride through the country on their horses white!
And all the people, live they far or near,
  Will early rise and follow with delight.

And never will the great procession stop
  Till they Christkindlein and his mother greet:
Then on their knees the turbaned kings will drop,
  And fill her lap with gifts, and kiss his feet;

For they will find her, sitting still and meek
  Upon a bench beside some stable-shed,
Her soft hair brushing dear Christkindlein's cheek,
  And sunshine brightness all around each head!

Then, while the old folk smile through happy tears,
  Blame not the children if a shout they raise
When little Esel,3 with his pointed ears,
  Leans o'er the fence with puzzled, wistful gaze.

There, too, the gentle, great black ox will stand:
  Folk say he knelt at night in strawy stall;
Perchance he knows these kings from Eastern land,
  For now he lifts his head with lowing call!

1 Weihnachten--Christmas

2 In many parts of Southern Germany it is 
a custom to place on the outer door the initials 
of the three kings--C. M. B.

3 Esel--German for "donkey,"

1. Her Christmas Present
2. In the Dark Little Flat at the End of the Court
3. Holly and Mistletoe
4. Two Child Angels
5. The Day-Dreamer

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