The Christmas Bells.
The keen frost shrivells the last dead leaves,
The storm through the forest yells;
But on the wild blast soft music floats
O’er woodlands and moors and fells—
“Ting-Ting-a-Tong-Tong,
Tong-Tong-a-Ting-Ting,”
Just hark to the Christmas bells!
Gay mirth is around each social hearth,
With rapture each bosom swells,
And each soul owns the mystical power
Of this ancient music’s spells—
“Ting-Ting-a-Tong-Tong,” &c.
The gay dance runs through the laurell’d hall,
Where youth and fair beauty dwells;
But o’er the brisk sounds that time their steps,
A deep-toned sound excels—
“Ting-Ting-a-Tong-Tong,” &c.
To th’ old it recalls dim years long past,
It opens the grave’s dark cells,
And whilst they muse on the loved and lost,
A tear to the eye compels—
“Ting-Ting-a-Tong-Tong,” &c.
Yet breathes it still, with high hope to all,
As that sacred carol swells,
And with the voice of an angel’s song
Of Goodness and Mercy tells—
“Ting-Ting-a-Tong-Tong,” &c.