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A Ballade Of Old Loves
CAROLYN WELLS Who is it stands on the polish...

Santa Claus At Simpson's Bar
BRET HARTE It was nearly midnight when the festiviti...

Christmas
NAHUM TATE While shepherds watch'd their flo...

The Glorious Song Of Old
EDMUND H. SEARS It came upon the midnight cl...

The Voyage Of The Wee Red Cap
RUTH SAWYER DURAND It was the night of St. Stephen...

Carol
O Child of Mary's tender care! O little Child ...

Toinette And The Elves
SUSAN COOLIDGE THE winter's sun was nearing the ho...





Church Decking At Christmas






WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Would that our scrupulous sires had dared to leave
Less scanty measure of those graceful rites
And usages, whose due return invites
A stir of mind too natural to deceive;
Giving the memory help when she could weave
A crown for Hope!--I dread the boasted lights
That all too often are but fiery blights,
Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve.
Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring,
The counter Spirit found in some gay church
Green with fresh holly, every pew a perch
In which the linnet or the thrush might sing,
Merry and loud, and safe from prying search,
Strains offered only to the genial spring.





Next: So Now Is Come Our Joyfulst Feast

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