I fall not on my sad clay face before ye;
I look on His. I know
My spirit which dilateth with the woe
Of His mortality,
May well contain your glory.
Yea, drop your lids more low,
Ye are but fellow-worshippers with me!
Sleep, sleep, my worshipped One!

V.

We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem.
The dumb kine from their fodder turning them,
Softened their horned faces
To almost human gazes
Towards the newly born.
The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks
Brought visionary looks,
As yet in their astonished 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!

VI.

I am not proud--meek angels, ye invest
New meeknesses to hear such utterance rest
On mortal lips,--"I am not proud"--not proud!
Albeit in my flesh God sent His Son,
Albeit over Him my head is bowed
As others bow before Him, still mine heart
Bows lower than their knees. O centuries
That roll, in vision, your futurities
My future grave athwart,--
Whose murmurs seem to reach me while I keep
Watch o'er this sleep,--
Say of me as the heavenly said,--"Thou art
The blessedest of women!"--blessedest,
Not holiest, not noblest,--no high name,
Whose height misplaced may pierce me like a shame,
When I sit meek in heaven!

VII.

For me--for me--
God knows that I am feeble like the rest!--
I often wandered forth, more child than maiden,
Among the midnight hills of Galilee,
Whose summits looked heaven-laden;
Listening to silence as it seemed to be
God's voice, so soft yet strong--so fain to press
Upon my heart as heaven did on the height,
And waken up its shadows by a light,
And show its vileness by a holiness.
Then I knelt down most silent like the night,
Too self-renounced for fears,
Raising my small face to the boundless blue
Whose stars did mix and tremble in my tears.
God heard them falling after--with His dew.

VIII.

So, seeing my corruption, can I see.
This Incorruptible now born of me
This fair new Innocence no sun did c