The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
 His hair was like a light.
 (O, weary, weary is the world,
 But here is all aright.)

 The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,
 His hair was like a star.
 (O, stern and cunning are the kings,
 But here the true hearts are.)

 The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart
 His hair was like a fire.
 (O, weary, weary is the world
 But here the world's desire.)

 The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee,
 His hair was like a crown,
 And all the flowers looked up at Him,
 And all the stars looked down.

- G.K. Chesterton