Classic Poem

See where she lies pale and serene and mild,
Our little Virgin meek and innocent,
The wistful oval of her face down-bent
Upon the wonder of her new-born child.
How frail the stable seems, how fierce and wild
(Outside the intangible angel circle) blent
In fearful hordes the infernal armament,
The dark battalions of the unreconciled!

I saw the vision of our House of Bread,
In liquid fire it floated on the air,
In the blue deeps of night its shining trail
Was suddenly in milky radiance shed,
Against the hope which God hath planted there
Even the gates of Hell shall not prevail.