Whence comes this rush of wings afar.
Following straight the NoŽl star?
Birds from the woods in wondrous flight,
Bethlehem seek this Holy Night.
“Tell us, ye birds, why come ye here.
Into this stable, poor and drear?”
“Hast’ning we seek the new-born King,
And all our sweetest music bring.”
Hark how the green-finch bears his part,
Philomel, too, with tender heart,
Chants from her leafy dark retreat
Re, mi, fa, sol, in accents sweet.
Angels and shepherds, birds of the sky,
Come where the Son of God doth lie;
Christ on the earth with man doth dwell.
Join in the shout, NoŽl, NoŽl.