Phyllis McGinley

When Christ was born on Christmas Day

The birds and the beasts knelt down to pray,

In wonder all,

Adoring, kneeled –

The ox in his stall,

The fox in the field,

While badger and bear and each wild thing
Flocked round the manger where slept a King
Housed in a stable at Bethlehem.
And the long-legged stork was there with them,

Her feathers white,
Her crest held high,
And awe in her bright
Compassionate eye.

“Alas,” she mourned, “how poor His bed

Who rules the universe overhead!

“Though cozily curled
Sleep all my breed,
The Lord of the World
Lies hard, indeed.

“Unpillowed is He who should wear a crown.”

Then out of her bosom she plucked the down.

The plumes from her breast
She tugged and tore
That the Child should rest
Like a beggar no more

But fine on a pallet fit for a prince.

And blest has the stork been, ever since –

For the gift she gave of her body’s wear,
Blest on chimneys, blest in the air,
And patron of babies
Everywhere.

A Wreath of Christmas Legends by Phyllis McGinley

Macmillan Publishing Co. Inc., New York

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