Ballads of Peace in War

BETHLEHEM

    O ye who sail Potomac's even tide
    To Vernon's shades, our Chieftain's hallowed mound;
    Or who at distant shrines high paeans sound
    In Alfred's cult, old England's morning pride;
    Or seek Versailles, conceited as a bride,
    With garish memories of kins strewn round;
    Or lay your spirit's cheek on Forum ground,
    For here a mighty Caesar lived and died:
    To these and other stones, O ye who speed,
    Since there, forsooth, a prince was passing great,
    More zealous let your heart's adoring heed
    The Child most Royal in a crib's estate.
    No poor so poor, no king more king than He:
    Come, better pilgrims, to this mystery.