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Masters In This Hall
ANONYMOUS To Bethlem did they go, the shephe...

Fairy Faces
ANON Out of the mists of childhood, ...

The Night After Christmas
ANNE P.L. FIELD Twas the night after Christm...

Old Father Christmas
J. H. EWING THE custom of Christmas-trees came fro...

Mr Bluff's Experiences Of Holidays
OLIVER BELL BUNCE "I HATE holidays," said Bachelor...

Little Wolff's Wooden Shoes
A CHRISTMAS STORY BY FRANCOIS COPPEE; ADAPTED AND TRANS...

Christmas At Fezziwig's Warehouse
CHARLES DICKENS Yo ho! my boys, said Fezziwig. No mo...





The Christmas Carol






WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen
That overpowered their natural green.

Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest, with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze
Nor check the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand!

And who but listened--till was paid
Respect to every inmate's claim:
The greeting given, the music played,
In honor of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And Merry Christmas wished to all!

How touching, when, at midnight, sweep
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,
To hear, and sink again to sleep!
Or, at an earlier call, to mark
By blazing fire, the still suspense
Of self-complacent innocence;

The mutual nod,--the grave disguise
Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er;
And some unbidden tears that rise
For names once heard, and heard no more;
Tears brightened by the serenade
For infant in the cradle laid.

Hail ancient Manners! sure defence,
Where they survive, of wholesome laws;
Remnants of love whose modest sense
Thus into narrow room withdraws;
Hail, Usages of pristine mould,
And ye that guard them, Mountains old!





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Previous: The Birth Of Christ



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