IN the rush of the merry morning, When the red burns through the gray, And the wintry world lies waiting For the glory of the day; Then we hear a fitful rushing Just without upon the stair, See two white phantoms coming, Catch the gleam of sunny hair. Are they Christmas fairies stealing Rows of little socks to fill? Are they angels floating hither With their message of good-will? What sweet spell are these elves weaving, As like larks they chirp and sing? Are these palms of peace from heaven That these lovely spirits bring? Rosy feet upon the threshold, Eager faces peeping through, With the first red ray of sunshine, Chanting cherubs come in view; Mistletoe and gleaming holly, Symbols of a blessed day, In their chubby hands they carry, Streaming all along the way. Well we know them, never weary Of this innocent surprise; Waiting, watching, listening always With full hearts and tender eyes, While our little household angels, White and golden in the sun, Greet us with the sweet old welcome, -- "Merry Christmas, every one!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FISH, THE MAN, AND THE SPIRIT (COMPLETE) by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT REBEL MOTHER'S LULLABY by SHANE LESLIE THE AEOLIAN HARP; AT THE SURF INN by HERMAN MELVILLE ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 4. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND, IN THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE LAUREL by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 4 by THOMAS CAMPION |