Nativity

FOUR POEMS

NATIVITY

Now that the winter sky was cold

And breath of oxen hung more white

Than starshine or than candlelight,

Her hour was come, who sensed no gold

Nor frankincense nor any myrrh

In darkness closing over her.

The streets of Bethlehem were wide

And hollow beneath Joseph's feet

Who found no star his eyes could meet.

Gorged with Rome's taxing, on his side

The tavern-keeper snored his fill.

Pale ghosts of sheep strayed on the hill.

And numb men, roused from frightened sleep,

Lit hasty fires in frozen grass

To tell strange dreams till the night pass.

The oxen watched above that deep

Where love goes crowned through love undone.

At dawn she lived, and knew her son.