Cradle Song

For one Born at Christmas

Happy thou, a winter comer, Happier with the snows around thee Than if rosy-fingered summer In thy cradle-nest had crowned thee.

Tender is the night, and holy: Little clouds, like cherub faces, Up the moon path, drifting slowly, Vanish in the heavenly spaces.

Clothed in splendor, past our earth night, Sphere on sphere is chanting Nowel: Child, thy birthnight keeps a Birthnight Dearest in all Time's bestowal!

He who slept within a manger Guards the pillow thou art pressing-- Sent thee hither, little stranger, Blest--to be our Christmas Blessing!