Saturday, December 26, 2009

Bethlehem - (Charles Williams)

A Poem

A star of travel shines above,
The small town sleeps below,
How shall I find the Mother of Love,
As through the world I go?
The emperors sit at their table bright,
To bring great things to pass,
But the Mother of Love is hid in the night,
With the ox and the ass.

How shall I find the Mother of Love
Amid all heads defiled
And her holy hands of succour that move,
About her holy Child?
Her eyes are lit and her footfall sings
As Eve's through Eden grass,
But she dwells to-night with all toil-worn things
And the ox and the ass.

What are the days that walk with her,
That shall be friends to me?
Days of incense and gold and myrrh,
Days of epiphany,
Days that follow a noble vow,
And the heavy days that pass
In labour of hammer and pen and plough,
And the ox and the ass.

If Love at last by cruel men
And the spear of Fate be slain,
Who shall bear witness to him then
Till he shall come again?
The Mother of Love, and the marching guilds,
And the priest that sings the Mass,
And the man that ploughs and the man that builds,
And the ox and the ass.

1 comment:

Jane said...

Charles Williams always furrows my brow - but that final verse is worth the work. Amen! And Lord preserve those holy tillers of the earth.