Feathery flakes are falling, falling
From the skies in softest way,
And between are voices calling,
“Soon it will be Christmas day!”
_—Mary B. Dodge_.
With snowy locks December stands
’Mid sleet and storm; his wasted hands
A frosty scepter grasp and hold;
His frame is bent, his limbs are old;
His bearded lips are iced and pale;
He shivers in the winter gale.
Come then, O day of warm heart-cheer,
Make glad the waste and waning year,
While old December shivering goes
To rest beneath the drifted snows!
_—Benj. F. Leggett_.
O happy chime,
O blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
“Welcome, dear day,”
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide has come.
The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The Christmas bells from hill to hill
Answer each other in the mist.
Rise, happy morn! rise, holy morn!
Draw forth the cheerful day from night:
O Father! touch the east, and light
The light that shone when hope was born.
Here comes old Father Christmas,
With sound of fife and drums,
With misteltoe about his brows,
So merrily he comes!
Hurrah for Father Christmas!
Ring all the merry bells!
And bring the grandsires all around
To hear the tale he tells.
—Rose Terry Cooke
Well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had rolled,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all his hospitable train.
* * * * *
England was merry England when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
’Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale;
’Twas Christmas told the merriest tale,
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man’s heart through half the year.
_—Sir Walter Scott_.
What do the angels sing?
What is the word they bring?
What is the music of Christmas again?
Glad tidings still to thee,
Peace and good will to thee
Glory to God in the highest!
A bright and blessed Christmas Day,
With echoes of the angels’ song,
And peace that cannot pass away,
And holy gladness, calm and strong,
And sweetheart carols, flowing free!
This is my Christmas wish to thee.