Stretch the years, a checkered chart,
Since they played their deathless part,
Yet to-day may we, like them,
Giving, hold the Christ at heart.
The Wise Men
The Wise Men wander across the wold,
(O the Star in the sky!)
Bearing their goodly gifts of gold.
(How the low wind whispereth by!
Whispereth
Of birth, not death,
With joy in its lifted cry!)
The Wise Men come unto Bethlehem;
(O the Star in the sky!)
A star is the beacon that guideth them.
(How the soft wind hasteneth by!
Hasteneth
The while it saith,
“O the Light of the World is nigh!”)
The Wise Men kneel at the infant’s feet,
(O the Star in the sky!)
And the loving mother smileth sweet.
(While the wind it hurrieth by,—
Hurrieth
As it gladly saith,
“O the Hope of the World is high!”)
The Wise Men rise, and they go their ways;
(O the Star in the sky!)
And all this happened in the ancient days.
(But the wind still gladdeneth by,—
Gladdeneth
At the death of Death,
That Life hath the victory!)
A Yule Song
Who cries ’tis folly to wreathe the bright holly?
Who is it scoffs at the mistletoe bough?
Marry, then, out on him! marry, then, flout on him!
If there’s a time to be jolly, ’tis now!
Berry-tide, cherry-tide, each is a merry tide,
And there’s charm in the nutting, I vow!
But none surpasses,—how say you, my lasses?—
The time for up-hanging the mistletoe bough!
Reason,—away with it! Men have grown gray with it,
Pondering why and considering how;
We have no part in it,—nay, and no heart in it!—
Under the droop of the mistletoe bough!