There is faint music in the night
and pale wings fanned by silver flight.
A frosty hill with tender glow
of countless stars that shine on snow.
A shelter from the winter storm,
a straw-lined manger safe and warm,
and Mary singing lullabies
to hush her baby's sleepy sighs.
Her eyes are fixed upon his face,
unheeded here is time and space.
Her heart is filled with blinding joy
for God's own son, her baby boy.
Nancy Buckley
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