immensity cloistered

I didn't count the guests last night. Did anybody count the guests? I just know that two shortcakes, a bowl of berries, 4 pints of heavy cream, a tin of rum logs, a plate of sugar cookies, leftover ham and bean soup for those who hadn't had dinner, 4 board games, one card game, a movie, one performance of O Holy Night, and two renderings of Happy Birthday were enough to keep the party going. Oh, and Tang. It wouldn't have been the same without the Tang.
Happy Birthday, Friend #7.

Lest I lose sight of the reason that fresh pine boughs are strewn all over the house and electric candles twinkle in the windows, here is a poem to set things straight. I will chew on its message today in between voice auditions, where I need to sit quietly and amuse myself while professors scribble notes and shuffle paperwork. John Donne wrote this a few centuries ago and it has stood the test of time.

Nativity

Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod's jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.