Once in the pauses of our whispered talk, I heard a something on the garden walk. Perhaps it was a crisp leaf lightly stirred— Perhaps the dream-note of a waking bird. Then suddenly an angel burning white Came down with earthquake in the breaking light, And rolled the great stone from the Sepulchre, Mixing the morning with a scent of myrrh. And lo, the Dead had risen with the day: The Man of Mystery had gone His way! Years have I wandered, carrying my shame; Now let the Tooth of Time eat out my name. For we, who all the Wonder might have told, Kept silence, for our mouths were stopt with gold. The Song of the Shepherds _And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen._—LUKE. It was near the first cock-crowing, And Orion’s wheel was going, When an angel stood before us and our hearts were sore afraid. Lo, his face was like the lightning, When the walls of heaven are whitening, And he brought us wondrous tidings of a joy that shall not fade. Then a Splendor shone around us, In the still field where he found us, A-watch upon the Shepherd Tower and waiting for the light; There where David as a stripling, Saw the ewes and lambs go rippling Down the little hills and hollows at the falling of the night. Oh, what tender, sudden faces Filled the old familiar places, The barley-fields where Ruth of old went gleaning with the birds! Down the skies the host came swirling, Like sea-waters white and whirling, And our hearts were strangely shaken by the wonder of their words. Haste, O people: all are bidden— Haste from places, high or hidden: In Mary’s Child the Kingdom comes, the heaven in beauty bends! He has made all life completer: He has made the Plain Way sweeter, For the stall is His first shelter and the cattle His first friends. He has come! the skies are telling: He has quit the glorious dwelling; And first the tidings came to us, the humble shepherd folk. He has come to field and manger, And no more is God a Stranger: He comes as Common Man at home with cart and crookèd yoke. As the shadow of a cedar To a traveller in gray Kedar Will be the kingdom of His love, the kingdom without end. Tongues and Ages may disclaim Him, Yet the Heaven of heavens will name Him Lord of peoples, Light of nations, elder Brother, tender Friend. The Prince of Whim Borne on like a bubble In bright little trouble My elf child glimmers and goes; As glad as a throstle Whose tremolos jostle The rain on the leaf of a rose.