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150

WINTER-TIME.

Slender and clear were his crystal spars
As the lashes of light that trim the stars;
He sculptured every summer delight
In his halls and chambers out of sight;
Sometimes his tinkling waters slipt
Down through a frost-leaved forest crypt,
Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees
Bending to counterfeit a breeze;

Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew
But silvery mosses that downward grew;
Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief
With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf;
Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear

For the gladness of Heaven to shine through; and here
He had caught the nodding bulrush-tops

And hung them thickly with diamond drops
Which crystalled the beams of moon and sun,
And made a star of every one.

No mortal builder's most rare device

Could match this winter palace of ice;

'Twas as if ev'ry image that mirrored lay
In his depths serene through the summer day,
Each flitting shadow of earth and sky,
Lest the happy model should be lost,
Had been mimicked in fairy masonry
By the elfin builders of the frost.

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.
To slay your sorrow, and heal your teen?"
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

"In an ox-stall this night we saw,

The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
A babe and a maid without a flaw.

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.
His hair was white and his hood was wide.
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

"And as we gazed this thing upon,

The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
Those twain knelt down to the Little One.

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.
That slew our sorrow and healed our care."
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

News of a fair and a marvellous thing,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door,
Nowell, nowell, nowell, we sing!

Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

William Morris.

TO THE NEW YEAR.

DIP down upon the northern shore,
O sweet new-year delaying long;
Thou doest expectant nature wrong;
Delaying long, delay no more.

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,
The little speedwell's darling blue,
Deep tulips dash'd with fiery dew,
Laburnums, dropping-wells of fire.

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;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.
H. W. Longfellow.

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