The Complete Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,299 pages of information about The Complete Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
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The Complete Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,299 pages of information about The Complete Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay,
For lo!  Baptiste on this triumphant day,
Mute as an idiot, sad as yester-morning,
Thinks only of the beldame’s words of warning.

And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis;
To be a bride is all!  The pretty lisper
Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper,
“How beautiful! how beautiful she is!”.

    But she must calm that giddy head,
    For already the Mass is said;
    At the holy table stands the priest;
The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it;
Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it,
    He must pronounce one word at least! 
’T is spoken; and sudden at the grooms-man’s side
“’T is he!” a well-known voice has cried. 
And while the wedding guests all hold their breath,
Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see! 
“Baptiste,” she said, “since thou hast wished my death,
As holy water be my blood for thee!”
And calmly in the air a knife suspended! 
Doubtless her guardian angel near attended,
    For anguish did its work so well,
    That, ere the fatal stroke descended,
        Lifeless she fell!

    At eve instead of bridal verse,
    The De Profundis filled the air;
    Decked with flowers a simple hearse
    To the churchyard forth they bear;
    Village girls in robes of snow
    Follow, weeping as they go;
    Nowhere was a smile that day,
No, ah no! for each one seemed to say:—­

“The road should mourn and be veiled in gloom,
So fair a corpse shall leave its home! 
Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away! 
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!”

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

FROM THE NOEI BOURGUIGNON DE GUI BAROZAI

    I hear along our street
    Pass the minstrel throngs;
    Hark! they play so sweet,
On their hautboys, Christmas songs! 
      Let us by the fire
      Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!

    In December ring
    Every day the chimes;
    Loud the gleemen sing
In the streets their merry rhymes. 
      Let us by the fire
      Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire.

    Shepherds at the grange,
    Where the Babe was born,
    Sang, with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn. 
      Let us by the fire
      Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!

    These good people sang
    Songs devout and sweet;
    While the rafters rang,
There they stood with freezing feet. 
      Let us by the fire
      Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire.

    Nuns in frigid veils
    At this holy tide,
    For want of something else,
Christmas songs at times have tried. 
      Let us by the fire
      Ever higher
Sing them fill the night expire!

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Project Gutenberg
The Complete Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.