POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
EDITORIAL COMMENT
CHRISTMAS AND THE POETS
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NO War, or Battail's sound
Was heard the World around,
The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
The hooked Chariot stood
Unstained with hostile blood,
The Trumpet spoke not to the armed throng;
And kings sate still with awful eye,
As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
But peacefull was the night
Wherein the Prince of light
His reign of peace upon the earth began:
The Winds with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kist,
Whispering new joys to the wild Ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
At last surrounds their sight
A Globe of circular light
That with long beams the shame-fac'd night array'd.
The helmèd Chembim
And sworded Seraphim
Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaid,
Harping in loud and solemn quire
With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir.
Such musick (as 'tis said)
Before was never made,
But where of old the sons of morning sung,
While the Creator Great
His constellations set
And the well—balanc'd world on hinges hung,
And cast the dark foundations deep,
And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.
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