By: Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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
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