Iv

It was in the heart of winter cold, When the moon is old, And snow on the lea. I leaned from my window And heard the sea Ring like brass, when deep is tolled The bourdon of Christ’s nativity. The Christmas world its page unrolled For my pagan eyes to see. Sheep held close in their sparkling fold, And the ice-mailed tree Glistened, ... as tho’ God leaned, and set Crystal tapers, with diamond fret; A holy festal tree made it, Whose candles the moon lit! I smelled frankincense, from censers gold Shadow-swung to a litany Glorious!...

Then wild, and bold, A Christmas storm swept over me. I leaned out from my parapet, Cliff-high tower, that keeps the sea:-- Arms and breast on the sill icy, Warm arms aching to clasp and fold One who close on my breast should be!

Pagan, thus in the Night Holy, Breaking form of the ancient mould, I saw God’s one star poise, and swim Over the birth of Love, in Him, But Belovèd ... I dreamed of thee.