The sky is dark, the snow descends:
Ring, bells, ring out your merriest chime!
Jesus is born; the Virgin bends
Above him. Oh, the happy time!
No curtains bright-festooned are hung,
To shield the Infant from the cold;
The spider-webs alone are slung
Upon the rafters bare and old.
On fresh straw lies the little One,
Not in a palace, but a farm,
And kindly oxen breathe upon
His manger-bed to keep it warm.
White wreaths of snow the roofs attire,
And o'er them stars the blue adorn,
And hark! In white the angel-quire
Sings to the Shepherds, 'Christ is born.'

by Toru Dutt

Comments (6)

Clare keeps his poems focused on the subject matter not turning to his feelings about it. Dr. Tom Dillingham, our teacher.
A class with Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at Mizzou brought me here. Very beautiful.
It's a little old-fashioned but beauty abounds in its every verse.
So many words and poems out there... The nightingale's nest by John Clair, 'I was unaware... Thanks to George-George Monbiot, with out his direction Clairs poems would be to me lost not sought... Beautiful poem!
Gosh, this poem is so beautiful!
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