MY counterpane is soft as silk, <br />My blankets white as creamy milk. <br />The hay was soft to Him, I know, <br />Our little Lord of long ago. <br /> <br />Above the roof the pigeons fly <br />In silver wheels across the sky. <br />The stable-doves they cooed to them, <br />Mary and Christ in Bethlehem. <br /> <br />Bright shines the sun across the drifts, <br />And bright upon my Christmas gifts. <br />They brought Him incense, myrrh, and gold, <br />Our little Lord who lived of old. <br /> <br />O, soft and clear our mother sings <br />Of Christmas joys and Christmas things. <br />God's holy angels sang to them, <br />Mary and Christ in Bethlehem. <br /> <br />Our hearts they hold all Christmas dear, <br />And earth seems sweet and heaven seems near. <br />O, heaven was in His sight, I know, <br />That little Child of long ago.<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-child-s-song-of-christmas/
