New Prince New Pomp

Behold, a seely tender babe
In freezing winter night
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas, a piteous sight!
The inns are full, no man will yield
This little pilgrim bed,
But forced he is with seely beasts
In crib to shroud his head.
Despise him not for lying there,
First, what he is enquire,
An orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother's poor attire
Nor Joseph's simple weed.
This stable is a prince's court,
This crib his chair of state,
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.
The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The prince himself is come from heaven;
This pomp is prized there.
With joy approach, O Christian right,
Do homage to thy king;
And highly prize his humble pomp
Which he from heaven doth bring.

by Robert Southwell

Comments (18)

Excellent poem! Must read more of Yeats.
'The Muse is mute when public men Applaud a modern throne: Those cheers that can be bought or sold, That office fools have run' - wonderful!
'And what's the odds if such as these For reason of the State Should keep their lovers waiting, Keep their lovers waiting? ' - A nice thought.
nice poem.................................
A beautiful and powerful composition of William Butler Yeats has been posted here and is being selected as the Poem of the day.
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