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The Call Of The Woodsman
The day before Christmas, in the year of our Lord 722...

Stand And Wait
I. CHRISTMAS EVE. "They've come! they've come!"...

The Knighting Of The Sirloin Of Beef By Charles The Second
ANON The Second Charles of England Ro...

Christmas Under The Snow
OLIVE THORNE MILLER IT WAS just before Christmas, ...

Christmas On Big Rattle
THEODORE GOODRIDGE ROBERTS ARCHER sat by the rude ...

The Shadow Of The Thunder-oak
Withered leaves still clung to the branches of th...

To The Fir-tree
FROM THE GERMAN O Fir-tree green! O Fir-tree...





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!





Next: Christmas At Fezziwig's Warehouse

Previous: The Birth Of Christ



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