Seest thou, O maid! some star by us unseen,
Buried from us in depths of starless space?
Know'st thou some joy of lesser joys the queen
That lights so sweet a mystery in thy face?
That face is as the face of them that bask
In some great tidings, or the face of one
Who late hath set his hand upon some task
By God ordained, that shall for God be done.
That light is as the light of them who bent —
That shepherd choir — above the babe new born:
Upward from Him thy day is ever sent,
A lifelong kindling of the Bethlehem morn.