XI.

It is enough to bear This image still and fair, This holier in sleep Than a saint at prayer, This aspect of a child Who never sinned or smiled; This Presence in an infant's face; This sadness most like love, This love than love more deep, This weakness like omnipotence It is so strong to move. Awful is this watching place, Awful what I see from hence-- A king, without regalia, A God, without the thunder, A child, without the heart for play; Ay, a Creator, rent asunder From His first glory and cast away On His own world, for me alone To hold in hands created, crying--SON!