 | My Sonnets |  |
1
[Come, raise a stave to Christmas, Jem]
Come, raise a stave to Christmas, Jem,
Though now no revelry,
And roaring wassail, welcome him,
As in the days gone by;
We'll greet him still, Jem, as of yore.
Let those who will go sigh,—
Our days shall be like days no more,
Our nights like nights gone by.
Though now no revelry,
And roaring wassail, welcome him,
As in the days gone by;
We'll greet him still, Jem, as of yore.
Let those who will go sigh,—
Our days shall be like days no more,
Our nights like nights gone by.
No more a thousand antlered walls,
And oaken roofs, resound
The roar that through old England's halls,
With foaming ale went round;
We quaff not from the flowing horn,
Yet we'll disdain to sigh
As much as men of days long gone,
And Christmas nights past by.
And oaken roofs, resound
The roar that through old England's halls,
With foaming ale went round;
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Yet we'll disdain to sigh
As much as men of days long gone,
And Christmas nights past by.
Although no more our mirth be told
By many a boisterous game,
That tears of laughter raised of old,
When jolly Christmas came,
With laughter loud we'll greet him, Jem,—
Let fools go mope and sigh,—
With dance and song we'll welcome him,
As in old years gone by.
By many a boisterous game,
That tears of laughter raised of old,
When jolly Christmas came,
With laughter loud we'll greet him, Jem,—
Let fools go mope and sigh,—
With dance and song we'll welcome him,
As in old years gone by.
And when our heads are whiter, Jem,
Than winter's drifting snows,
Our hearts shall still grow lighter, Jem,
Whene'er the old year goes;
For age to freeze our mirth, in vain,
To sadness still shall try,—
In talk we'll live old days again,
And merry nights gone by.
Than winter's drifting snows,
Our hearts shall still grow lighter, Jem,
Whene'er the old year goes;
For age to freeze our mirth, in vain,
To sadness still shall try,—
In talk we'll live old days again,
And merry nights gone by.
Fair forms, that are but infants now,
Our eyes shall swim before,
When years our forms shall downwards bow,
And we may bound no more;
Yet, then, the dance we'll see them weave,
With scarce a single sigh,—
In thought the present scene we'll leave,
And bound through nights gone by.
Our eyes shall swim before,
When years our forms shall downwards bow,
And we may bound no more;
Yet, then, the dance we'll see them weave,
With scarce a single sigh,—
In thought the present scene we'll leave,
And bound through nights gone by.
Young eyes shall speak to answering eyes,
When ours, perchance, are dim,—
Hands, hands, shall press,—sighs rise to sighs,
While we're unheeded, Jem;
Yet we'll grow young, while each shall tell
To each, with brightening eye,
Of those more fair who loved us well,
In pleasant days gone by.
When ours, perchance, are dim,—
Hands, hands, shall press,—sighs rise to sighs,
While we're unheeded, Jem;
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To each, with brightening eye,
Of those more fair who loved us well,
In pleasant days gone by.
With laughter loud and mirthful song,
Then hail old Christmas still,
While dance his hours of life along,
We'll frolic come what will.
The present, while our youth shall last,
Shall never hear us sigh;
In years of age we'll seek the past,
And live in days gone by.
Then hail old Christmas still,
While dance his hours of life along,
We'll frolic come what will.
The present, while our youth shall last,
Shall never hear us sigh;
In years of age we'll seek the past,
And live in days gone by.
December 24th, 1842.
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