THIS is a Christmas carol -- A late one, it is true, -- But (dight in Truth's apparel) The best that we can do: -- The best our Muse belated Thus offers, antedated, -- E'en as the old waits waited We, waiting, sing for you. So, haply, you may listen, As 'twere, with Fancy's ear, And shape such songs of this-un As were worth worlds to hear, -- Such anthemings ecstatic As scaled The Mermaid's attic In midnight's aromatic Of choicest Christmas cheer: Such songs as Marlowe lifted, With throstle-throated Will And rare Ben, as they shifted Their laughing voices till The mirth, with music blended, So oversweet ascended, It well were never ended -- And, hark! -- you hear it still! . . . You hear it; aye, and love it! -- Beyond all voices dear -- Your master's! -- none above it. -- So harken, and so hear! -- Your master's English. -- Surely No other rests so purely On Fame, or more securely, -- O English of Shakespeare! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROVING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BUSY HEART by RUPERT BROOKE PANDOSTO, THE TRIUMPH OF TIME: IN PRAISE OF HIS BEST-BELOVED FAWNIA by ROBERT GREENE A WOMAN'S LOVE by JOHN MILTON HAY THE CHILDREN'S HOUR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HESPERIDES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |