150 WINTER-TIME. Slender and clear were his crystal spars Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew For the gladness of Heaven to shine through; and here And hung them thickly with diamond drops No mortal builder's most rare device Could match this winter palace of ice; 'Twas as if ev'ry image that mirrored lay J. R. Lowell. CHRISTMAS CAROL. OUTLANDERS, whence come ye last? The snow in the street and the wind on the door. Through what green seas and great have ye past? Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. From far away, O masters mine, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. We come to bear you goodly wine, Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. From far away we come to you, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. To tell of great tidings strange and true, Ministrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. News, news of the Trinity, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. And Mary and Joseph from over the sea! Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. For as we wandered far and wide, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. What hap do ye deem there should us betide! Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. Under a bent when the night was deep, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. There lay three shepherds tending their sheep. Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. 152 CHRISTMAS CAROL. "O ye shepherds, what have ye seen, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. "In an ox-stall this night we saw, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. "There was an old man there beside, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. "And as we gazed this thing upon, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. "And a marvellous song we straight did hear, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. News of a fair and a marvellous thing, Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. William Morris. TO THE NEW YEAR. DIP down upon the northern shore, What stays thee from the clouded noons, Thy sweetness from its proper place? Can trouble live with April days, Or sadness in the summer moons? Bring orchis, bring the foxglove spire, O thou, new-year, delaying long, Delayest the sorrow in my blood, That longs to burst a frozen bud And flood a fresher throat with song. A. Tennyson. 154 THE RAINY DAY. THE RAINY DAY. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary; My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Some days must be dark and dreary. |