I.
The Pope on Christmas Day
        Sits in Saint Peter’s chair;
But the peoples murmur and say
        “Our souls are sick and forlorn,
And who will show us where
        Is the stable where Christ was born?”

II.
The star is lost in the dark;
        The manger is lost in the straw;
The Christ cries faintly ... hark!...
        Through bands that swaddle and strangle—
But the Pope in the chair of awe
        Looks down the great quadrangle.

III.
The Magi kneel at his foot,
        Kings of the East and West,
But, instead of the angels (mute
        Is the “Peace on earth” of their song),
The peoples, perplexed and opprest,
        Are sighing “How long, how long?”

IV.
And, instead of the kine, bewilder in
        Shadow of aisle and dome,
The bear who tore up the children,
        The fox who burnt up the corn,
And the wolf who suckled at Rome
        Brothers to slay and to scorn.
V.
Cardinals left and right of him,
        Worshippers round and beneath,
The silver trumpets at sight of him
        Thrill with a musical blast:
But the people say through their teeth,
        “Trumpets? we wait for the Last!”

VI.
He sits in the place of the Lord,
        And asks for the gifts of the time;
Gold, for the haft of a sword
        To win back Romagna averse,
Incense, to sweeten a crime,
        And myrrh, to embitter a curse.

VII.
Then a king of the West said “Good!—
        I bring thee the gifts of the time;
Red, for the patriot’s blood,
        Green, for the martyr’s crown,
White, for the dew and the rime,
        When the morning of God comes down.”


VIII.
—O mystic tricolor bright!
        The Pope’s heart quailed like a man’s;
The cardinals froze at the sight,
        Bowing their tonsures hoary:
And the eyes in the peacock-fans
        Winked at the alien glory.

IX.
But the peoples exclaimed in hope,
        “Now blessed be he who has brought
These gifts of the time to the Pope,
        When our souls were sick and forlorn.
—And here is the star we sought,
        To show us where Christ was born!”