Elizabeth Barrett Browning — Christmas Gifts

I. The Pope on Christmas Day        &nbspSits in Saint Peter’s chair; But the peoples murmur and say        &nbsp“Our souls are sick and forlorn, And who will show us where        &nbspIs the stable where Christ was born?” II. The star is lost in the dark;        &nbspThe manger is lost in the straw; The Christ cries faintly ... hark!...        &nbspThrough bands that swaddle and strangle— But the Pope in the chair of awe        &nbspLooks down the great quadrangle. III. The Magi kneel at his foot,        &nbspKings of the East and West, But, instead of the angels (mute        &nbspIs the “Peace on earth” of their song), The peoples, perplexed and opprest,        &nbspAre sighing “How long, how long?” IV. And, instead of the kine, bewilder in        &nbspShadow of aisle and dome, The bear who tore up the children,        &nbspThe fox who burnt up the corn, And the wolf who suckled at Rome        &nbspBrothers to slay and to scorn. V. Cardinals left and right of him,        &nbspWorshippers round and beneath, The silver trumpets at sight of him        &nbspThrill with a musical blast: But the people say through their teeth,        &nbsp“Trumpets? we wait for the Last!” VI. He sits in the place of the Lord,        &nbspAnd asks for the gifts of the time; Gold, for the haft of a sword        &nbspTo win back Romagna averse, Incense, to sweeten a crime,        &nbspAnd myrrh, to embitter a curse. VII. Then a king of the West said “Good!—        &nbspI bring thee the gifts of the time; Red, for the patriot’s blood,        &nbspGreen, for the martyr’s crown, White, for the dew and the rime,        &nbspWhen the morning of God comes down.” VIII. —O mystic tricolor bright!        &nbspThe Pope’s heart quailed like a man’s; The cardinals froze at the sight,        &nbspBowing their tonsures hoary: And the eyes in the peacock-fans        &nbspWinked at the alien glory. IX. But the peoples exclaimed in hope,        &nbsp“Now blessed be he who has brought These gifts of the time to the Pope,        &nbspWhen our souls were sick and forlorn. —And here is the star we sought,        &nbspTo show us where Christ was born!”