If you walk on Christmas eve,
And the moon doth shine aright,
You will see them weave,—
Nimble gnome, and fay and sprite,—
Devious dances in the lustrous lunar light.
Round and round the holly bole
Will they dart and glide and spring;
And a tripping troll
Will they in a chorus sing;
Threading now in broken, now in linkèd ring.
Berry bright, berry bright,
Be the love about your hearth!
Leafy green, leafy green,
Be perennial your mirth!
Sturdy as a holly bole be your footing of the earth!
These white spirits of old Yule,
Happy you who hear their tune!
Joy with you shall rule,
Life for you shall be a boon
Round the year through all the watches of the moon!
The Christmas Angel
In middle heaven a form behold;
Fair-aureoled
Her shapely brow with noon-bright gold;
Soli Deo Gloria!
Upon a little cloud she stands,
Within her hands
A tympanum with scarlet bands;
Soli Deo Gloria!
Thereon she playeth without fault,
While up the vault
Her voice makes silvery assault—
Soli Deo Gloria!
Till, blended with her soaring notes,
Adown there floats
An echo from a myriad throats—
Soli Deo Gloria!
An angel she of God’s own choir,
Whose one desire
Is higher yet to chant, and higher—
Soli Deo Gloria!