AT NAZARETH
A
lady, a Child and a tradesman brown[1]
walked
through a street of Nazareth town,
and
as they passed, the flowers sweet
blossomed
in clusters at their feet.
A
tree bent low that its boughs might press,
ever
so gently, the lady’s dress.
The
joyous birds sang long and clear,
and
all of Nazareth stopped to hear
the
golden notes of a tiny thrush,
who
managed somehow his wings to brush
over
the locks of the wondrous Child
holding
the hand of the man, who smiled
at
blossom and birdling and bending tree
giving
their all to Infinity.
Sister M Immaculata SSJ
Messenger of the Sacred Heart. Undated
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