AN CHRISTMAS. The singing waits-a merry throng, At early morn, with simple skill, Yet imitate the angel's song, And chaunt their Christmas ditty still; The music of the village bells, Ringing around their merry peals. When this is past, a merry crew, Bedecked in masks and ribbons gay, The Morris Dance, their sports renew, And harlequin, a laugh to raise, Wears his hunch-back and tinkling bell. And oft for pence and spicy ale, With winter nosegays pinned before, The wassail-singer tells her tale, And drawls her Christmas carols o'er. While 'prentice boy, with ruddy face, And rime-bepowdered dancing locks, From door to door, with happy face, Runs round to claim his "Christmas-box." The block upon the fire is put, To sanction custom's old desires, And many a fagot's bands are cut For the old farmer's Christmas fires; Where loud-tongued gladness joins the throng, And Winter meets the warmth of May, Till, feeling soon the heat too strong, While snows the window-panes bedim, Mirth, full of joy as summer bees, Sits there its pleasures to impart, And children, 'tween their parent's knees, Sing scraps of carols off by heart. And some, to view the winter weathers, Climb up the window-seat with glee, O'er visions wild that youth supplies, Of people pulling geese above, And keeping Christmas in the skies. As though the homestead trees were drest, In lieu of snow, with dancing leaves, As though the sun-dried martin's nest, Instead of ic'cles hung the eaves ; The children hail the happy day As if the snow were April's grass, And pleased, as 'neath the warmth of May, Sport o'er the water froze to glass. Thou day of happy sound and mirth, That long with childish memory stays, CHRISTMAS. How blest around the cottage hearth, On presents which thy coming found, The Christmas gift of cousins round. About the glowing hearth at night, The harmless laugh and winter tale Go round; while parting friends delight To toast each other o'er their ale. The cotter oft with quiet zeal Will, musing, o'er his Bible lean; While in the dark the lovers steal, To kiss and toy behind the screen. Old customs! Oh! I love the sound, Is welcome, and is dear to me, Pride grows above simplicity, And spurns them from her haughty mind: And soon the poet's song will be The only refuge they can find. CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR. THOMAS MILLER. THOSE Christmas bells as sweetly chime, So merrily in the olden time, And far and wide their music flung: Old Christmas comes but once a year. Then he came singing through the woods, And plucked the holly bright and green; Pulled here and there the ivy buds; Was sometimes hidden, sometimes seenHalf-buried 'neath the mistletoe, His long beard hung with flakes of snow; Old Christmas comes but once a year. He merrily came in days of old, When roads were few, and ways were foul, Now staggered,-now some ditty trolled, His holly silvered o'er with frost. For reeling here and reeling there, The hall was then with holly crowned, 'T was on the wild-deer's antlers placed; CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR. It hemmed the battered armour round, And every ancient trophy graced. It decked the boar's head, tusked and grim, A summer-green hung everywhere, His jaded steed the armèd knight By all assisted to alight, From humble monk, to abbot great. |