OH, Christmas bells, your music swells upon the buoyant winter breeze. I dry my tears and shed my years, when I hear happy sounds like these. I'm gray and bent, an ancient gent, who may not see another spring; my knees are sprung, but I feel young, when Christmas bells begin to ring. I'd give no hoot for that galoot, who doesn't feel the Christmas glow, who doesn't sing when joy bells ring, and turn some handsprings in the snow. Oh, Christmas bells, your music spells forgetfulness of workday cares; a little while we sing and smile, and dance around like circus bears. A little while the grief and guile, the grind of life forgotten are; our hearts are thawed, we walk abroad, and sing of Bethlehem afar. A little while we cease to pile more plunks upon our stack of brass; the soul fog lifts, we hand out gifts, instead of trying to amass. Oh, Christmas bells, your music dwells forever in the old man's mind, recalls the truth of honest youth, the days he's left so far behind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELSA WERTMAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TWO WOMEN by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS SPANISH WINGS: SENORITA by H. BABCOCK ESCAPE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE FORFEIT by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |