Advent to Candlemas (Vol. 2)

Were He Born in Summer

Were he born in Summer,
Ripening fruit and hay;
Warmed by glorious sunlight,
Lit by golden ray:
Roaming sheep and cattle,
Camels on the way;
Joyful songs and laughter
On the longest day.

Were he born in Autumn,
Harvest gathered in,
Oil and wine of gladness,
Corn stowed in the bin:
Harvest celebrations,
Music at the inn;
Breezes stir and stiffen
As the sun grows thin.

(but) He was born in Winter,
Damp and mould the wall;
Peasants creased with shiver,
Cattle in the stall:
Rotting hay beneath Him,
Rough the shepherds' call;
Wild his mother's worry,
Snow begins to fall.

And he rose in Springtime
Blossom on the tree,
Hope in every flower
Life where death should be:
All the earth in rapture,
Love and ecstasy;
An unbounded future,
Life's eternity.