AT CHRISTMAS TIME
At Christmas time the fields are white,
And hill and valley all bedight
With snowy splendor, while on high
The black crows sail athwart the sky,
Mourning for summer days gone by
At Christmas time.
At Christmas time the air is chill,
And frozen lies the babbling rill:
While sobbingly the trees make moan
For leafy greenness once their own,
For blossoms dead and birdlings flown
At Christmas time.
At Christmas time we deck the hall
With holly branches brave and tall,
With sturdy pine and hemlock bright,
And in the Yule-log's dancing light
We tell old tales of field and fight
At Christmas time.
At Christmas time we pile the board
With flesh and fruit and vintage stored,
And mid the laughter and the glow
We tred a measure soft and slow,
And kiss beneath the mistletoe
At Christmas time.
O God and Father of us all,
List to Thy lowliest creature's call:
Give of Thy joy to high and low,
Comforting the sorrowing in their woe;
Make wars to cease and love to grow
At Christmas time.
Let not one heart be sad to-day;
May every child be glad and gay:
Bless Thou Thy children great and small,
In lowly hut or castle hall,
And may each soul keep festival
At Christmas time.