In numbers, and but these few, <br />I sing thy birth, oh JESU! <br />Thou pretty Baby, born here, <br />With sup'rabundant scorn here; <br />Who for thy princely port here, <br />Hadst for thy place <br />Of birth, a base <br />Out-stable for thy court here. <br /> <br />Instead of neat enclosures <br />Of interwoven osiers; <br />Instead of fragrant posies <br />Of daffadils and roses, <br />Thy cradle, kingly stranger, <br />As gospel tells, <br />Was nothing else, <br />But, here, a homely manger. <br /> <br />But we with silks, not cruels, <br />With sundry precious jewels, <br />And lily-work will dress thee; <br />And as we dispossess thee <br />Of clo}ts, we'll make a chamber, <br />Sweet babe, for thee, <br />Of ivory, <br />And plaster'd round with amber. <br /> <br />The Jews, they did disdain thee; <br />But we will entertain thee <br />With glories to await here, <br />Upon thy princely state here, <br />And more for love than pity: <br />From year to year <br />We'll make thee, here, <br />A free-born of our city.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-ode-of-the-birth-of-our-saviour/
