Child of the Night

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    Of the night and hushed
    Majesties of light.
    Cool evening breeze
    And single cry,
    A mother’s tender arms
    And eyes …
    Unspoken grace adorns
    Crude stable hay and
    Humble cloth.
    A King is born
    In quiet manger
    Without pretence
    Or display …
    No jeweled crown
    Nor fame is found
    In lighted
    And whisper
    Of a father’s tender
    Murmur of His name,
    The morning breaks
    In quiet sigh and fame;
    A dark and sleeping
    World awakes
    To never be
    The same.