Explore "Christmas" by Théophile Gautier on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Black is the sky and white the ground. / O ring, ye bells, your carol's grace! / The Child is born! A love profound / Beams o'er Him from His Mother's face.
No silken woof of costly show / Keeps off the bitter cold from Him. / But spider-webs have drooped them low, / To be His curtain soft and dim.
Now trembles on the straw downspread / The Little Child, the Star beneath. / To warm Him in His holy bed, / Upon Him ox and ass do breathe.
Snow hangs its fringes on the byre. / The roof stands open to the tryst / Of aureoled saints, that sweetly choir / To shepherds, "Come, behold the Christ! "