Mary's Lullaby

Not long the road to Bethlehem, not long:

The hours sped swiftly for I spun a song,

A lullaby that I would sing with joy

When I would hold Him close--God's little boy.

The notes I plucked from beauty on my way:

Lithe amber willows with their furry-gray:

(Would He love little kittens?) ancient palms,

An avenue of harps that strummed the psalms

Of David like a prayer; an olive tree

Wherein a dove was nesting; (He would be

The Prince of Peace.) a linnet fluting through

The quietude of skies of April-blue;

The lilies of the fields shy-whispering;

The grasses by the roadside new with spring.

From all of this I spun a song for Him.

(Would He love catkins on a willow limb?)

The donkey--Joseph leading--stepped so slow

And carefully, I wondered: did he know

He bore the unborn King? As dusk descended--

A few more notes and my song would be ended--

Came drowsy night-sounds ... Did a shadow flee?

One long discordant note wail Calvary?

No, not in my joy-lullaby! Instead,

A cradle moon low-hanging overhead

Recalled the waiting cradle Joseph made...

Travailing pain ... Yet I was unafraid

For high above there shone the Moving Star

And Joseph spoke, "Not far, my dear, not far!"

When I lay resting on the fragrant hay

I thought of all the beauty on my way

And sang the lullaby that I had spun

For I was holding close, God's little Son.