There breaks a sound of joyous bells
Upon the frosted air.
And o’er the humblest rooftree, lo,
A star is dancing on the snow.
What makes the yellow star to dance
Upon the brink of night?
What makes the breaking dawn to glow
So magically bright,—
And all the earth to be renewed
With infinite beatitude?
The singing bells, the throbbing star,
The sunbeams on the snow,
And the awakening heart that leaps
New ecstasy to know, —
They all are dancing in the morn
Because a little child is born.
So frail, yet so enduring,To triumph o’er dismay?Ah, quick her tears are springing,And quickly they are dried,For sorrow walks before her,But gladness walks beside.She comes with gusts of laughter,—The music as of rills;With tenderness-and sweetness, —The wisdom of the hills.Her hands are strong to comfort,Her heart is quick to heed.She knows the signs of sadness,She…
Where grow the great fantastic flowersWith truth for honey at the core.There like a wild marauding beeMade desperate by hungry fears,From gorgeous If to dark PerhapsI blunder down the dusk of years.
And the rose of morningFrom the dark is born,All my shadowy gardenSeems to grow awareOf a fragrant presence,Half expected there.In the golden shimmerOf the burning noon,When the birds are silentAnd the poppies swoon,Once more I behold herSmile and turn her face,With its infinite regard,Its immortal grace.When the twilight silversEvery nodding flower,When the new moon hallowsThe…
Hem lay ’round and Haw looked onWhile God did all the work.Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a prig,For both had the dull, dull mind;And whenever they found a thing to do,They yammered and went it blind.Hem was the father of bigots and bores;As the sands of the sea were they.And Haw was the…
Singing in a cadence knownTo the seraphs round the throne.And the traveller drawing nearThrough the meadow, halts to hearAnthems of a natural joyNo disaster can destroy.All night long from set of sunThrough the starry woods they run,Singing through the purple darkSongs to make a traveller hark.All night long, when winds are low,Underneath my window goThe…
And takes the heart out of the day?What makes the morning look so mean,The Common so forlorn and gray?The wintry city’s granite heartBeats on in iron mockery,And like the roaming mountain rains,I hear the thresh of feet go by.It is the lonely human surfSurging through alleys chill with grime,The muttering churning ceaseless floeAdrift out of…
