THE BIRTH

There is a legend that the love of God So quickened under Mary's heart it wrought Her very maidenhood to holier stuff. . . . However that may be, the birth befell Upon a night when all the Syrian stars Swayed tremulous before one lordlier orb That rose in gradual splendor, Paused, Flooding the firmament with mystic light, And dropped upon the breathing hills A sudden music Like a distillation from its gleams; A rain of spirit and a dew of song!