With whisper and rustle, and start and hush, 



The dry leaves murmur in tree and bush. 



On sombre pines, with boughs bent low, 



Forsaken nests are piled with snow. 



The chick-a-dees, alert for seeds, 



Chatter and cling to the swaying weeds. 



The snow drifts deep in the country ways ; 



And short and cold are the dreary days. 



Yet fair on the brow of the frozen night 



The Christmas Star gleams large and bright ! 



