(G. Holst, C. Rossetti)
In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan
Earth stood hard as iron
Water like a stone
Snow had fallen
Snow on snow on snow
In the bleak midwinter
Long, long ago
Angels and arc-angels
May have gathered there
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air
But only his mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshiped the beloved
With a kiss
What can I give him
Poor as I am
If I were a sheperd
I would give a lamb
If I were a wise man
I would do my part
But what I can I give him
Give him my heart
|