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 Contents | December 2003 More on poetry from The Atlantic Monthly. |
Children, Singing
by Sydney Lea .....  Hear the author read this poem (in RealAudio)It's the time of year when listening to a child Becomes a way to pray. Praise newborn God, we think, all mercy mild, And may He gain our day. Before us here a choir of heavenish voices, Children's voices, say, As the anthem demands, Our weary world rejoices. But just what are we to pray? That we become—as writings prophesy— As little children? That we hark— Hearing the carol—as the herald angels sing? They'll fly Breakneck from innocence to dark- Tinged wonder, Incarnation flown to Passion. But singing children—They, Like Bethlehem's Infant, salve such apprehension. From the manger where He lay, The center of a universe now blessed, A childlight charges every note and rest.
Sydney Lea's books include The Pursuit of a Wound (2000) and To the Bone: New and Selected Poems (1966), a co-winner of the Poets' Prize. Copyright © 2003 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; December 2003; Children, Singing; Volume 292, No. 5; 104. | [an error occurred while processing this directive] | ||
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