Argue it pro and con as you will,
And flout each other with words,
But the rose will bloom and the summer still
Will bring us the song of birds.

How was He born who came to earth,
With the Godlight in His eyes?
Wrangle and quarrel about His birth,
And yet you shall not be wise.

And what does it matter? The clover blows
And the rose blooms on the tree,
And only the God in heaven knows
How these things come to be.

You take the flower though you cannot say
Why this is red or white,
You accept the warmth of the sun by day
And the light of the stars by night.

You joy in a thousand mysteries
Which your wisdom can't explain,
The green of the grass and the rolling seas
And the gold of the harvest grain.

So why do you bother your heads at all?
And why does your faith grow dim?
You take the flower on the garden wall,
So why will you not take Him?