The Stable-Boy's Guest.

    The Wise Men came to the inn that night,
    "Now open to us," they cried,
    "We have journeyed far that we might kneel
    To One who doth here abide."

    The door was opened with eager haste.
    "Of whom do ye come in quest?
    Can it be that a lord of high degree
    Is with us this night as guest?"

    The Wise Men answered: "The eastern sky
    Is luminous still, and clear,
    With the radiance of a golden star
    That hath led our footsteps here.

    "Blessed, O keeper, this inn of thine,
    Both thatch and foundation stone,
    For the open door and hearth-fire warm
    When the King came to His own!"

    "The King! the King!" loud the keeper's cry,
    "The King in this house of mine!
    Lights ho! lights ho! set the place aglow,
    Bring forth the meat and the wine!

    "The King! let the guest-room be prepared -
    Honor and homage we pay
    To royal son of a royal line
    Who tarries with us to-day!"

    From room to room of the inn they went,
    The Wise Men and keeper proud,
    But not a trace of the One they sought
    Found they in that motley crowd.

    "You have other guests?" the Wise Men asked,
    And the keeper's face flamed red;
    "But a straggling pair who came so late
    They found neither room nor bed."

    "My masters," a lad said timidly,
    "As I gave the cattle feed,
    Came creeping down to the stable door
    A woman in sorest need.

    "I made her a bed in the manger low,
    At head of the oxen mild,
    And, masters, I heard a moan of pain,
    Then the cry of a new-born child."

    "A prince shalt thou be!" the Wise Men cried,
    "For hearkening to that moan,
    A prince shalt thou be for succor given
    When the King came to His own!"

    "Nay, I'm but a stable-boy," he smiled,
    With his eager eyes aglow;
    "No King, but a little naked child,
    Sleeps out in my manger low."

            *        *        *        *        *

    Hast come to these homes of ours, O Christ,
    In quest of a meal or bed,
    And found no welcoming cheer set forth,
    Nor place to pillow thine head?

    Give us a heart aflame with love,
    Filled with a pity divine,
    Then come Thou as beggar, or babe, or king,
    The best that we have is Thine.

Jean Blewett

Jean Blewett was a Canadian author, journalist, and poet. Born in Scotia, Ontario, she became well-known for her poetry and was awarded the part of lyrical poet at the World’s Fair in Chicago, 1893. Her notable works were often published in literary magazines. Besides poetry, Blewett also wrote stories and worked as a journalist, gaining considerable respect in both fields. She passed away in Chatham, Ontario, in 1934. Her legacy remains a significant part of Canadian literary history.

Jean Blewett

The Time And The Deed.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

Janet.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

Our Dead In South Africa.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

When Trees Are Green.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Stable Of Bethlehem.

'Twas not a palace proud and fair
    He chose for His first home;
No dazz'ling pile of grandeur rare,
    With pillar'd hall and dome;
Oh no! a stable, rude and poor,
    Received Him at His birth;
And thus was born, unknown, obscure,
    The Lord of Heaven and Earth.

No band of anxious menials there,
    To tend the new-born child,
Joseph alone and Mary fair
    Upon the infant smiled;
No broidered linens fine had they
    Those little limbs to fold,
No baby garments rich and gay,
    No tissues wrought with gold.

Come to your Saviour's lowly bed,
    Ye vain and proud of heart!
And learn with bowed and humbled head
    The lesson 'twill impart;
'Twill teach you not to prize too high
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O Night Of Nights! (Hymn)

"Let us now go even unto Bethlehem."

O Night of nights! O night
    Desired of man so long!
The ancient heavens fled forth in light
    To sing thee thy new song;
And shooting down the steep,
    To shepherd folk of old,
An angel, while they watch'd their sheep,
    Set foot beside the fold.

Lo! while as like to die
    Of that keen light he shed,
They look'd on his pure majesty,
    Amazed, and sore bestead;
Lo! while with words of cheer
    He bade their trembling cease,
The flocks of God swept sweetly near,
    And sang to them of peace.

All on the hillside grass
    That fulgent radiance fell,
So close those innocents did pass,
    Their words were heard right well;
Among the sheep, their wings
    Som...

Jean Ingelow

The Three Kings

Three Kings came riding from far away,
    Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
    For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.

The star was so beautiful, large, and clear,
    That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere,
And by this they knew that the coming was near
    Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.

Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows,
    Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,
    Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.

And so the Three Kings rode into the West,
    Through the dusk of night, over hill and dell...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Manifestation

God said; "Let there be light"; and in the East
A star rose flaming from night's purple sea -
The star of Truth, the star of Joy, the star
Seen by the prophets down the lonely years;
Set for a light to show the Perfect Way;
Set for a sign that wayfarers might find;
Set for a seal to mark the Godhead's home.
And three Kings in their palaces afar,
Who waited ardently for promised things,
Beheld, and read aright.    Straightway the road
Was hot with pad of camel, horse's hoof,
While night was quick as day with spurring men
And light with flaring torch.    "Haste, haste!" they cried,
"We seek the King, the King! for in the East
His star's alight."

Bethlehem


The Angels

Soft and slow, soft and slow,
With angels' wings of fire and sn...

Michael Fairless

A Christmas Hymn

        Near where the shepherds watched by night
            And heard the angels o'er them,
        The wise men saw the starry light
            Stand still at last before them.
        No armored castle there to ward
            His precious life from danger,
        But, wrapped in common cloth, our Lord
            Lay in a lowly manger.
        No booming bells proclaimed his birth,
            No armies marshalled by,
        No iron thunders shook the earth,
            No rockets clomb the sky;
        The temples builded in his name
            Were shapeless granite then,
        And all the choirs that sang his fame
            Were later breeds of men.
        But, while the world about him slept,
            Nor cared that he was born,

John Charles McNeill

Christmas.

How did they keep his birthday then,
The little fair Christ, so long ago?
O, many there were to be housed and fed,
And there was no place in the inn, they said,
So into the manger the Christ must go,
To lodge with the cattle and not with men.

The ox and the ass they munched their hay
They munched and they slumbered, wondering not,
And out in the midnight cold and blue
The shepherds slept, and the sheep slept too,
Till the angels' song and the bright star ray
Guided the wise men to the spot.

But only the wise men knelt and praised,
And only the shepherds came to see,
And the rest of the world cared not at all
For the little Christ in the oxen's stall;
And we are angry and amazed
That such a dull, hard thing should be!

How do we keep ...

Susan Coolidge