The Weeping Babe
She kneels by the cradle
Where Jesus doth lie;
Singing, Lullaby, my Baby!
But why dost Thou cry?
The babes of the village
Smile sweetly in sleep;
And lullaby, my Baby,
That ever dost weep!
I've wrapped Thee in linen,
The gift of the Kings;
And wool, soft and fleecy,
The kind Shepherd brings.
There's a dove on the trellis,
And wings in the door,
And the gold shoes of angels
Are bright on our floor.
Then lullaby, my Baby!
I've fed thee with milk,
And wrapped thee in kisses
As soft as the silk.
And here are red roses,
And grapes from the vine,
And a lamb trotting softly,
Thy playfellow fine.
Now smile, little Jesus,
Whom naught can defile;
All gifts will I give Thee
An thou wilt but smile.
But it's lullaby, my Baby!
And mournful am I,
Thou cherished little Jesus,
That still Thou wilt cry.
~~
Katharine Tynan (1861-1931)
from Poems, 1901
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
Katharine Tynan biography
