A dog barked, and an owl was calling,
The Squire's brook was still a-falling,
The carved heads on the church looked down
On 'Russell, Blacksmith of this Town,'
And all the graves of all the ghosts
Who rise on Christmas Eve in hosts
To dance and carol in festivity
For joy of Jesus Christ's Nativity
(Bell-ringer Dawe and his two sons
Beheld 'em from the bell-tower once),