To My Little Daughter on Christmas Eve

So many gods have died to bear
This god of yours in Bethlehem.
Thor came with thunder on the air,
And Thor has died. Osiris wore
The crown of heaven on his brow;
And where is bright Osiris now?
Ormazd and Ahriman have fought;
Ormazd and Ahriman are naught.
Sunk with their rod and diadem
The old gods wake and walk no more.
This night another god is born.
Be not afraid, my sleepyhead,
Lest he grow sleepy too like thee
And fall asleep on Baldur’s bed,
Or take his rest on Ormazd’s knee.
Thor and Osiris both are gone;
Now dark Jehovah bears a son.
Sleep softly then, my drowsy one;
Though old gods wither on the stem,
New gods forever bloom from them.