Elizabeth Barrett-Browning (Элизабет Барретт-Браунинг)

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. Bianca among the Nightingales
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 35. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
3. The Soul's Expression
4. Minstrelsy
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 18. I never gave a lock of hair away

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 3061

Последние стихотворения

To English version