Gilbert Keith Chesterton (Гилберт Кит Честертон)
A Christmas Carol
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap, His hair was like a light. (O weary, weary were the world, But here is all aright.) The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast His hair was like a star. (O stern and cunning are the kings, But here the true hearts are.) The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart, His hair was like a fire. (O weary, weary is the world, But here the world's desire.) The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee, His hair was like a crown, And all the flowers looked up at Him, And all the stars looked down 'A Christmas Carol' poem I The shepherds went their hasty way, And found the lowly stable-shed Where the Virgin-Mother lay: And now they checked their eager tread, For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung, A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung. II They told her how a glorious light, Streaming from a heavenly throng. Around them shone, suspending night! While sweeter than a mother's song, Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth, Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth. III She listened to the tale divine, And closer still the Babe she pressed: And while she cried, the Babe is mine! The milk rushed faster to her breast: Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn; Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born. IV Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, Poor, simple, and of low estate! That strife should vanish, battle cease, O why should this thy soul elate? Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story, Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory? V And is not War a youthful king, A stately Hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring; Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh. VI Tell this in some more courtly scene, To maids and youths in robes of state! I am a woman poor and mean, And wherefore is my soul elate. War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, That from the aged father's tears his child! VII A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, He kills the sire and starves the son; The husband kills, and from her board Steals all his widow's toil had won; Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away All safety from the night, all comfort from the day. VIII Then wisely is my soul elate, That strife should vanish, battle cease: I'm poor and of low estate, The Mother of the Prince of Peace. Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn: Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!
Gilbert Keith Chesterton’s other poems:
- Tribute to Gladstone
- The New Fiction
- Alliterativism
- Confessional
- On the Disastrous Spread of Aestheticism in all Classes
Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):
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