Mary of the Morn

Through the Gate O'Morn
He came,
In a stable, born,

Where St. Joseph
Held her hand,
Both so tired and worn.

Patient, donkey,
Just outside,
Munching on some corn,

Saw the love
St. Joseph had,
To Mary, he was sworn.

Saw St. Joseph's
Furrowed brow,
Knowing future scorn.

Saw St. Joseph,
In the now,
Fighting 'gainst forlorn.

Then the donkey
Heard with joy,
The herald of a horn,

Angel Gabriel
Announcing wide,
History's curtain torn!

Then St. Joseph
Walking by
Some fleecy, sheep, some shorn,

Behind this wife,
He'd reach new life,
Through Mary of the Morn.

by Long-Skirts
This poem is used with permission of the author.