James Elroy Flecker
Reading edition
Joseph and Mary
Joseph:
Mary, art thou the little 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 astray; But let me look on this my boy, And take the wraps away.
Mary:
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 glistening 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.
Contents / Contents, p. 2
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.
Contents / Contents, p. 2