Edith Matilda Thomas

Cradle Song

For One Born at Christmas

Happy thou, a winter comer,
  Happier with the snows around thee
Than if rosy-fingered summer
  In thy cradle-nest had crowned thee.

Tender is the night, and holy:
  Little clouds, like cherub faces,
Up the moon path, drifting slowly,
  Vanish in the heavenly spaces.

Clothed in splendor, past our earth night,
  Sphere on sphere is chanting _Nowel_:
Child, thy birthnight keeps a Birthnight
  Dearest in all Time's bestowal!

He who slept within a manger
  Guards the pillow thou art pressing--
Sent thee hither, little stranger,
  Blest--to be our Christmas Blessing!