The Christmas moon shines clear and bright;
There were poor trav'llers such a night
Had neither fire nor candlelight.
One plucked them stars out of the sky
To show the road to travel by;
So that the ass go warily.
She had all Heaven safe in her hold,
Hidden within her mantles fold:
All Heaven and it was one hour old.
Her hair under, over Him spread
His spun gold coverlet and His bed,
Twined with his little golden head.
She sang and rocked Him to-and-fro
Such songs as little babies know,
With lullaby sweet and lullalo.
He had no need of moons or suns,
Nor the gold-crested bird legions,
Singing their lauds and orisons.
The Christmas moon shows a cold beam:
He hath His mother she hath Him:
Together they sleep, togeth-er dream.