The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
 |
| I. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
|
|
|
|
| II. |
|
|
CHRISTMAS. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
66
CHRISTMAS.
One cannot choose but love the bells,
With their harmonious din,—
Those speaking bells, whose falls and swells
Ring merry Christmas in;
They sound like angel-voices sent
From some serener sphere,
Singing from out the firmament—
“The Prince of Peace is here!”
With their harmonious din,—
Those speaking bells, whose falls and swells
Ring merry Christmas in;
They sound like angel-voices sent
From some serener sphere,
Singing from out the firmament—
“The Prince of Peace is here!”
“Good will fulfil, fulfil good will!”
Their glad lips seem to say,—
“The best ye can for brother man!”
Goes on the cheerful lay.
And shall we scorn such fancy-songs—
If fancy-songs they be—
Which lift us up from woes and wrongs,
And bid our joys be free?
Their glad lips seem to say,—
“The best ye can for brother man!”
Goes on the cheerful lay.
And shall we scorn such fancy-songs—
If fancy-songs they be—
Which lift us up from woes and wrongs,
And bid our joys be free?
No; rouse to life the laughing blaze,—
Draw round it, every one;
Away, sad thoughts of former days!—
Cares of to-day, begone!
Ah, now ye wear a Christmas look,
A bright and earnest grace,
Even the old clock within the nook
Trims up its burnished face.
Draw round it, every one;
Away, sad thoughts of former days!—
Cares of to-day, begone!
Ah, now ye wear a Christmas look,
A bright and earnest grace,
Even the old clock within the nook
Trims up its burnished face.
67
Now pledge we in the wassail bowl,
Warm wishes, long to last!—
'Tis done! we feel from soul to soul
The friendship-flame has passed;
And sternest hearts will now forgive,
And gentlest hearts forget;
Let's live to love, and love to live,
And we'll be happy yet.
Warm wishes, long to last!—
'Tis done! we feel from soul to soul
The friendship-flame has passed;
And sternest hearts will now forgive,
And gentlest hearts forget;
Let's live to love, and love to live,
And we'll be happy yet.
Now for an anthem, such as rung
In halls and homes of old;
Let every thought to joy be strung,
Each voice flow free and bold.
Lo! as ye sing, each voiceless thing
Stirs at the tuneful call,
For the berries that blush 'mid the holly-bush
Tremble upon the wall!
In halls and homes of old;
Let every thought to joy be strung,
Each voice flow free and bold.
Lo! as ye sing, each voiceless thing
Stirs at the tuneful call,
For the berries that blush 'mid the holly-bush
Tremble upon the wall!
Dear Christmas Days! how fair ye seem,
Glad, holy, and sublime!
Like prints of angel feet ye gleam
Along the path of Time!
Foot-prints whereon sweet heart-flowers blow,
By worldly storms unriven,
That we may mark them as we go,
And find our way to Heaven.
Glad, holy, and sublime!
Like prints of angel feet ye gleam
Along the path of Time!
Foot-prints whereon sweet heart-flowers blow,
By worldly storms unriven,
That we may mark them as we go,
And find our way to Heaven.
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |