Christmas

Old Christmas turned towards me—was it onlyTo see a visage blank and pale and lonely,And the sad tears that trembled in my eye?

Go farther, Christmas!—all thy bounties bringingTo some bright circle, where sweet voices ringingShall welcome thee—go! pass the anchorite by!

Some chilling thoughts my wakening heart appal,And, like the icicles upon the wall,Hang stiffly on that heart—it was not so,

In older, happier days, when Christmas came,And every eye shone brighter at the name—Parents and brothers all—a joyous row.

O many saw us then—all, all delighted;All, all in daily blessedness united—All, all so happy—all so kind, so good!

We loved our brethren all—God honoured, all,And when the beggar called, we hailed his call,We gave him comfort and we gave him food.

And our reward? Short were our days of bliss—Launched on a wide, wide sea of miseries,Our destined harbour was despair and death.

And yet I dreamed that the old family treeMight stand unshattered midst the misery—Sunshine above it, sheltering beneath.

It was not so—there came a whirlwind forth,And flung its branches to the south and north—One of its roots, my mother—left alone.

O my soul's ancestry—O brothers dear!O loved companions, scattered here and there,Shall we not meet again, again be one?

Hope! thou has often kissed me, tho' thy kissWas treacherous—-yet is thine a tempting bliss;In trusting thee once more—betray not, then,

Thy suppliant—let me dream of happy thingsOf family meetings, family ministeringsPast days of blessedness to dawn again.

I am no sun, which earth and moon roll round,I am a comet lost in heaven's vast bound,And thro' the storm winds bear my melancholy train.