THE north wind rustles in the roads Where snow is spreading blankets light, And on the window-panes of shops The frost weaves portières of white. The sad old stars peep out to watch Their precious child, the Christmas Eve, Who comes in sable chariot To give the world a short reprieve. Through darkened street the toiler plods, He whistles soft a roundelay, With mind intent upon the thought, To-morrow is a holiday. At midnight when the lights are out, The world, all breathless, seems to pause To welcome with a little bow The kingly form of Santa Claus. Then through the watches of the night There falls the voice of Him, again, Who, long ago, in Palestine, His blessing gave to struggling men. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PORTRAIT OF A BOY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET NO MATTER WHAT, AFTER ALL, AND THAT BEAUTIFUL WORD SO by HAYDEN CARRUTH EVERYONE KNOWS WHOM THE SAVED ENVY by JAMES GALVIN AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW A DIM DOORWAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. TRACE TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LITTLE PEOPLES by CLAUDE MCKAY TO A LADY WHO HAD OFFERED HIM A WREATH OF LAUREL by GEORGE SANTAYANA |