COME CHRISTMAS-DAY 



DECEMBER winds do blow, blow, 

 blow. Out from all the heav- 

 ens they sweep and swirl. 

 Now the sere land shivers, the 

 groaning trees bend low. Now 

 barely the dead leaves rustle, the thistle- 

 down wings away. Wind o' the north 

 brings ice and sleet; wind o' the south sheds 

 tears in flood over the poor year's dying. 

 East wind sighs sullen through swathe of 

 chill mist. West wind blows on to brave 

 blue skies that may fitly roof this holy day 

 of feast. 



Christmas, crown o' the year ! Golden 

 clasp to its round of light and shadow. 

 Truly the bells of it shall ring out, " Plague 

 I banish, peace I bring." Welcome it roy- 

 ally. Spread out for soul and sense a feast 

 of fat things, good to the use of edifying. 



Go along woodland ways, and spoil them 

 in its name. Take to your hands remorse- 

 less every green thing. Spare not sighing 



