Page:Poems Tynan.djvu/201

Joseph.

Mary, give me His feet to kiss.
Alack, that in such place as this
The Child is born, Whom on my knees
 Most humbly I adore.

Thou knowest how through this cold-heart town,
Weary I travelled up and down,
Praying a shelter for mine own,
 All in her need so sore.

There was no woman, sweet, to come
And take thy hand, and lead thee home,
And find the hours not wearisome,
 To watch by thee till morn;

And with a woman's art to soothe
The Holy Babe, and wash and clothe.
Great glory they have lost, in truth,
 By their cold hearts of scorn.

Mary.

Come hither, little ox and ass,
That gave my Son your scented grass;
His hands shall o'er your foreheads pass
 In love and thanksgiving.

What would we do, both He and I,
Had ye the world's cold cruelty,
Shelter and cradle to deny
 To this most Holy Thing?
[The Ass and the Ox kneel down.

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