Mildred Plew Meigs
The hour is late, "the shepherds said, "
And the miles are long to wind;
Do you stay here with the sheep, instead!"
And they left the lad behind.
His heard their feet in the dark ravine,
The drop of the sheepfold bars,
And then blue stillness flowed between
The huddled sheep and stars.
He sat him down to wait for dawn,
His crook across his knees,
And thought of the shepherds moving on
Under the olive trees.
Herding his flocks in Palestine,
He thought, the lad of old,
How some must follow the Angel's sign
And some must tend the fold.
And as he mused he took his pipe -
Twas a shepherd's pipe he had -
And there, while the frosty stars grew ripe
And shone on the shepherd lad,
The first sweet Christmas carol twined
From the willow's slender stem -
Blown by the shepherd left behind
To a Babe in Bethlehem.
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