One summer, in my wanderings with a knapsack, I was at luncheon in the room of a wayside inn in the western country, when the door opened and there entered an old rustic, who crossed close to my end of the table and sat himself down very quie... Read more of The Wood Of The Dead at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Christmas In The Alley
OLIVE THORNE MILLER "I DECLARE for 't, to-morrow i...

Christmas And Rome
The first Christmas this in which a Roman Senate has ...

Christmas In The Olden Time
WALTER SCOTT On Christmas-eve the bells were...

A Christmas Carol
CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI In the bleak mid-winte...

The Trail Through The Forest
Two years had passed, to a day, almost to an hour, si...

Christmas Carol
As Joseph was a-waukin' He heard an angel si...

The End Of The Play
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY The play is done...





Ballade Of Christmas Ghosts






ANDREW LANG

Between the moonlight and the fire
In winter twilights long ago,
What ghosts we raised for your desire,
To make your merry blood run slow!
How old, how grave, how wise we grow!
No Christmas ghost can make us chill,
Save those that troop in mournful row,
The ghosts we all can raise at will!

The beasts can talk in barn and byre
On Christmas Eve, old legends know.
As year by year the years retire,
We men fall silent then I trow,
Such sights hath memory to show,
Such voices from the silence thrill,
Such shapes return with Christmas snow,--
The ghosts we all can raise at will.

Oh, children of the village choir,
Your carols on the midnight throw,
Oh, bright across the mist and mire,
Ye ruddy hearths of Christmas glow!
Beat back the dread, beat down the woe,
Let's cheerily descend the hill;
Be welcome all, to come or go,
The ghosts we all can raise at will.

ENVOY

Friend, sursum corda, soon or slow
We part, like guests who've joyed their fill;
Forget them not, nor mourn them so,
The ghosts we all can raise at will.





Next: Hang Up The Baby's Stocking

Previous: A Ballade Of Old Loves



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