James Elroy Flecker

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Joseph and Mary

Joseph

Mary, art thou the litttle maid

Who plucked me flowers in Spring?

I know thee not; I feel afraid:

Thou'rt strange this evening.

A sweet and rustic girl I won

What time the woods were green;

No woman with deep eyes that shone,

And the pale brows of a Queen.

Mary (inattentive to his words)

A stranger came with feet of flame

And told me this strange thing, --

For all I was a village maid

My son should be a King.

Joseph

A King, dear wife? Who ever knew

Of Kings in stables born!

Mary

Do you hear, in the dark and starlit blue

The clarion and the horn?

Joseph

Mary, alas, lest grief and joy

Have sent thy wits away;

But let me look on this my boy,

And take the wraps away.

Behold the lad.

Joseph

          I dare not gaze:

Light streams from every limb.

Mary

The winter sun has stored his rays,

And passed the fire to him.

Look Eastward, look! I hear a sound,

O Joseph, what do you see?

Joseph

The snow lies quiet on the ground

And glistens on the tree;

The sky is bright with a star's great light,

And clearly I behold

Three Kings descending yonder hill,

Whose crowns are crowns of gold.

O Mary, what do you hear and see

With your brow toward the West?

Mary

The snow lies glisening on the tree

And silent on Earth's breast;

And strong and tall, with lifted eyes

Seven shepherds walk this way,

And angels breaking from the skies

Dance, and sing hymns, and pray.

Joseph

I wonder much at these bright Kings;

The shepherds I despise.

Mary

You know not what a shepherd sings,

Nor see his shining eyes.

The Queen's Song

Had I the power

To Midas given of old

To touch a flower

And leave the petals gold,

I then might touch thy face,

Delightful boy,

And leave a metal grace,

A graven joy.

Thus would I slay --

Ah, desperate device!

The vital day

That trembles in thine eyes,

And let the red lips close

Which sang so well,

And drive away the rose

To leave a shell.

Then I myself,

Rising austere and dumb,

On the high shelf

Of my half-lighted room,

Would place the shining bust

And wait alone,

Until I was but dust,

Buried unknown.

Thus in my love

For nations yet unborn,

I would remove

From our two lives the morn,

And muse on loveliness

In mine armchair,

Content should Time confess

How sweet you were.

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Forward to Wilfrid Wilson Gibson