BY WILL H. WHYTE.
HARK to the sleigh-bells—how they charm the ear
With crystal music exquisitely clear!
Watch the light sleighs, how merrily they go
O’er firm new roads macadamized with snow!
The skies are blue, the sunbeams, as they play,
Eclipse the splendors of a summer day,
And rubies, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds blaze,
Beneath each horse’s footfall, with prismatic rays.