It was a Christmas almsman
Unto a hovel came;
The walls so grim were drear and dim
With one pale candle flame.
Yet spake the kindly hoveler
Who saw the beggar’s face:
“You’re welcome here, though lean our cheer;
Enter, and bide a space!”
He shambled in; he crouched him down;
He ate their meagre fare;
And lo, they found, when he had sped,
A scrip of gold and jewels red!
The hoveler had housed and fed
An angel unaware!
The Bells of Christmas
“Pilgrim, you of the loosened lachet,
What do you hear as you roam and roam?”
“Master, I list to the bells of Christmas,
The bells of Christmas, calling me home!
“They call and call, and I fain would hasten
Back to the warmth of the old roof-tree,
To the plentiful board and the merry faces,
And the twilight prayer at the mother’s knee!”
“Pilgrim, you of the loosened lachet,
Why, then, still do you roam and roam?”
“Master, ’twas but a dream they conjured,
The bells of Christmas, calling me home.
“’Twas but a vision out of the distance,
Happy and holy and sweet, forsooth!
’Twas but a vision out of the distance,
Out of the long lost vale of Youth!”
“Pilgrim, you of the loosened lachet,
All of us have our dreams like thee,
And back are borne by the bells of Christmas
To the twilight prayer at the mother’s knee!”