2i6 A GARDEN OF PLEASURE 



XV 



CHRISTMAS DAY 

 EX UMBRA* 



4 IN twilight while I walk alone 



A strange voice calls me, clear and low ; 



A shadowy hand that seeks my own, 

 Cold as the wind and soft as snow, 



Still leads me, leads me as I pass 

 Across the grey December grass. 



' The village windows beckon still 



With glow of amber and of gold ; 

 But my way lies along the hill, 



My road must cross the frosty wold ; 

 And still I feel and still I see 



The darkness round me deep and free.' 



IN the dark, clear, early morning, the 

 thrushes are singing with soft under 

 voices. At this early hour before sunrise 

 they are not afraid, and many a dear 

 speckled breast and swelling throat is 

 plainly to be seen in the elms and limes, 

 on branches overhanging the road. 



* By permission of Editor P.ill Mall Gazette. 



