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...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DIPPOLD THE OPTICIAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MY AIN COUNTRIE by MARY LEE DEMAREST AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 1. THE BALLAD-SINGER by THOMAS HARDY TAPESTRY TREES by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD by WALTER RALEIGH SONNET TO CHARLOTTE M-- by BERNARD BARTON FASHION; A DIALOGUE by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |