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The trees bring forth sweet ecstacy
To all who in the desert roam;
Till many a city there is built,
And many a pleasant shepherd's home.
But when they find the frowning babe,
Terror strikes through the region wide:
They cry—'the babe—the babe is born!'
And flee away on every side.
For who dare touch the frowning form,
His arm is withered to its root:
Bears, lions, wolves, all howling flee,
And every tree doth shed its fruit.
And none can touch that frowning form
Except it be a woman old;
She nails it down upon the rock,
And all is done as I have told.
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