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Saturday, December 24, 2011

The Angels for the Nativity of Our Lord

(Christmas Eve by Henri Matisse,
1869-1954, French printmaker,
painter, and sculptor)

A sonnet.


Run, shepherds, run where Bethlem blest appears,
We bring the best of news, be not dismayed,
A Savior there is born more old than years,
Amidst heaven’s rolling heights this earth who stayed:
In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid
A weakling did him bear, who all upbears;
There is he, poor swaddled, in a manger laid,
To whom too marrow swaddlings are our spheres:
Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth,
This is that night — no, day, grown great with bliss,
In which the power of Satan broken is;
In heaven be glory, peace unto earth!
Thus singing, through the air the angels swam,
And cope of stars re-echoed the same.

~ William Drummond of Hawthornden (1585-1649), Scottish poet

Please click here to read the collection of poems for the season posted last December.

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