The Waits
*
"Fifty Christmas Poems for Children", by Florence B. Hyett, [1923],
A Christmas Carol
That sweeter music can we bring
Than a carol, for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the voice; awake the string!
Heart, ear, and eye, and everything!
Why does the chilling winter's morn
Smile, like a field beset with corn?
Or smell, like to a mead new-shorn,
Thus, on the sudden?
Come and see
The cause, why things thus fragrant be.
'Tis He is born, whose quickening birth
Gives light and lustre, public mirth,
To heaven, and the under-earth.
The darling of the world is come,
And fit it is we find a room
To welcome Him. The nobler part
Of all the house here, is the heart,
Which we will give Him; and bequeath
This holly, and this ivy wreath,
To do Him honour; who's our King,
And Lord of all this revelling.
--robert HERRICK
"Fifty Christmas Poems for Children", by Florence B. Hyett, [1923],
A Christmas Carol
That sweeter music can we bring
Than a carol, for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the voice; awake the string!
Heart, ear, and eye, and everything!
Why does the chilling winter's morn
Smile, like a field beset with corn?
Or smell, like to a mead new-shorn,
Thus, on the sudden?
Come and see
The cause, why things thus fragrant be.
'Tis He is born, whose quickening birth
Gives light and lustre, public mirth,
To heaven, and the under-earth.
The darling of the world is come,
And fit it is we find a room
To welcome Him. The nobler part
Of all the house here, is the heart,
Which we will give Him; and bequeath
This holly, and this ivy wreath,
To do Him honour; who's our King,
And Lord of all this revelling.
--robert HERRICK
