Here you will find the Poem Singing Children of poet Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
IN the streets of Bethlehem sang the children So merry and so shrill, 'He shall have sweet cedars in his garden And a house on Hermon Hill. He shall have the king's daughter for his fellow, A king's crown to bind upon his head.' And with bracken buds and straw, brown and yellow, Mary made His bed. In the streets of Nazareth sang the children So clearly and so sweet, 'He shall lead us to the spoiling of the nations, He shall bruise them with his feet. His standards shall outface the stars for number, Red as field-lilies when the rains are done.' And Mary heard them singing in her slumber. And woke to kiss her Son. In the streets of Jerusalem the children Sang, passing to their play, 'The king's daughter waits in her apparel All glorious as day. We charge you, O ye watchmen, of your pity Reveal us our belovéd, call his name.' And the shadow of a cross beyond the city Fell softly o'er their game. In the ways of all the world sing the children, 'We know Him, we have named Him, He is ours, Like leaves we have fluttered to His shadow, He has gathered us as flowers. And when the bud falls all too soon for blossom And when the play has wearied of its charm, He bears the tired lambs within His bosom And the young lambs in His arm.'
