(ii)
Cold, is it cold?
Blows there a wind
All night through?
Does a frozen dew
Lie on the wold?
Dark, is it dark?
Blotted from being
Cottage and garth?
Has the last hearth
Quenched its spark?
Still, is it still?
Wakes the wind only?
Sunk in a deep
Midwinter sleep
Valley and hill?
No, not all cold,
Nor yet all dark,
Nor yet quite still.
Such is not God’s will.
In the sheepfold,
Warm in the ewe’s fleece,
Lies the lamb newborn.
To and fro all night
The shepherd bears a light,
Telling his flock’s increase.