Classic Poem

On a bitter cold night
When the peaked stars shone pale,
I saw on high, a kiss,
Ride against the gale.

It was small, it was fierce,
It was all wreathed with flame,
Like a Paradisal child
With a wild, holy name.

Like an archangelic child,
No bigger than a blossom,
That an angel great and mild
Might nourish in her bosom.

It flew through the skies,
It darted through the trees.
The cattle saw it come
And they crouched on their knees.

It flew through the storm,
Through the thunder and the fire.
It throbbed along the stone,
It pulsed through the mire.

The folks looked up,
With all the wits they had.
A man went blind
And a woman went mad.

A young lad saw it
And he blushed like a rose.
He burned with its fire,
And he tore off his clothes.

He gave his clothes away
To the beggar on the street.
Oh he burned like a rose
From his head to his feet.

What he ought to do
The parson couldn't tell.
So he rang, rang, rang
The meeting-house bell.

A hunter raised his gun.
He thought it was a bird,
With its flame-colored dyes
And its sweet new word.

He was sick for its feathers,
For if he had it dead
He could take it to the market
And barter it for bread.

But it sped straight on.
It darted with a will.
It whirled through the stars
And it shook a great hill.

It shone on the seas
With a strange fearful light.
It swayed not to left.
It swerved not to right.

It drove through the sun.
It clove through the moon.
And the stars all danced
To a great new tune.

It was blue above the steeple
And white above the foam
And it whirled blood red
Through the Court-House dome.

It was small, it was soft,
It shone without a sound.
It rent the iron frost
In the black cold ground.

It burst through the wall.
It leaped through the stone.
There is a sullen cell
Lay a prisoner all alone.

He groaned and he cried.
He struggled and he wept.
Like thorns in his side
Were the hours that he slept.

It flew into his hand
And there it lay and smiled
Like a little quivering light,
Like an archangelic child.

Then it crept to his lips
And there it seemed to cling,
Like thirst that would be quenched
From a deep eternal spring.

It flew to the heart
Of a woman lone and wild.
It nestled in her bosom —
No bigger than a blossom,
But yet it was a child.

It could breathe, it could burn.
It could sing like a bird.
It could feed like bread,
And create like a word.

It covered up the skies
With its great warm wing.
The turrets and the steeples
And the domes began to sing.

It folded up the earth
With its warm sweet breast.
All things shone
And all things were at rest.

The Angels saw it shine
With its countenance of flame.
They threw off their crowns
For " Holy" was its Name.

The earth blossomed sweet
With exquisite desire.
The Kiss turned to a city
Like a rose all on fire.

While in the Gospel Tent
The Preacher rose and cried,
" Behold the Marriage Supper
Of the Son and the Bride."

Then the people all rose up
And they sang with one accord,
" It's the great Marriage Supper,
It's the great Marriage Supper,
It's the great Marriage Supper of the Lord."