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When the great Star shone
From its mighty station
So shepherds, tranced,
Knelt down in the dew,
It was not alone
In its jubilation.
The little stars danced
By the thousands, too.
They danced on high
In that peerless hour,
Till giddy with praising
The Christchild's birth
They reeled from the sky
And fell in a shower,
Burning and blazing,
Down to earth--
Slid in astonished
Avalanches
(But leaning to listen
Along the way)
To lodge in a burnished
Pine tree's branches
Where still they, glisten
To this very day.
For if you believe
What pale and shaken
Home-returning
Travelers tell,
On Christmas Eve
Those little stars waken
As bright and burning
As when they fell.
Look out of the West
When the year's unwinding,
Perhaps they will dance
And you may see
A pine that is dressed
In light so blinding
It dazzles the glance.
And that will be
The world's first, merriest
Christmas tree.
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