Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

The Holy Night

We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem;
The dumb kine from their fodder turning them,
     Softened their horned faces
     To almost human gazes
     Toward the newly Born:
The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks
     Brought visionary looks,
As yet in their astonied hearing rung
     The strange sweet angel-tongue:
The magi of the East, in sandals worn,
     Knelt reverent, sweeping round,
     With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground,
     The incense, myrrh, and gold
These baby hands were impotent to hold:
So let all earthlies and celestials wait
     Upon thy royal state.
     Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!

1. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 11. And therefore if to love can be desert
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 40. Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 25. A heavy heart, Belovëd, have I borne
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 41. I thank all who have loved me in their hearts
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast

Print

1231 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version