Classic Poem

A tall centurion first drew near,
Brass-booted, on whose crest sat Fear.
He bent low to the fragrant bed,
With beard coal-black and cheek rust-red,
And each palm hard as horn;
Quoth he, " Our old gods' empire shakes,
Mehercule! Now this babe o'ertakes
All that our Venus-Mother makes
Betwixt the night and morn. "

A shepherd spake: " Behold the Lamb,
Who ere he reign as heaven's I AM
Must undergo and overcome,
As sheep before the shearers dumb.
Unfriended, faint, forlorn.
Him then as King the skies shall greet,
And with strewn stars beneath his feet
This Lamb shall couch in God's gold seat,
And rule from night to morn. "

A woman of the city came,
Who said, " In me hope conquers shame.
Four names in this child's line shall be
As signs to all who love like me, —
God pities where men scorn:
Dame Rahab, Bathshebah, forsooth,
Tamar, whose love outloved man's truth,
And she cast out, sweet alien Ruth,
Betwixt the night and morn. "

Next Joseph, spouse of Mary, came, —
Joseph Bar-Panther was his name, —
Who said, " This babe, Lord God, is thine
Only begotten Son divine.
As thou didst me forewarn;
And I will stand beside his throne,
And all the lands shall be his own
Which the sun girds with burning zone,
And leads from night to morn. "

Said Zacharias, " Love and will
With God make all things possible.
Shall God be childless? God unwed?
Nay: see God's first-born in this bed
Which kings with gifts adorn.
I would this babe might be at least
As I, an incense-burning priest,
Till all man's incense-fires have ceased,
Betwixt the night and morn. "

Whereat his wife Elisabeth:
" My thoughts are on the myrrh, since death
Shades my sere cheek, which, as a shore,
Is wrought with wrinkles o'er and o'er.
Now be this child new-born
A prophet, like my prophet-boy, —
A voice to shake down and destroy
Throne, shrine, each carved and painted toy,
Betwixt the night and morn. "

But Mary, God's pure lily, smiled:
" Lord, with thy manhood crown my child, —
More man, more God, for they who shine
Most human shall be most divine.
Of those I think no scorn,
King, prophet, priest, when worlds began;
But higher than these my prayer and plan
Oh, make my child the Perfect Man,
The Star 'twixt night and morn. "