. The palace beautiful : and other poems . ng lingers,Then clasps the Sacred Symbol with his hands unto Herheart! XXI. Like music born of Sorrow, but sweet as Loves to-mor-row,There came these words of comfort, and all lovingly theyfell: I am worthy now to wear it. Father—Mother—you canspare it;For your Child, through deep repentance, made theCurse a Holy Spoil. 174 CHRISTMAS EVE. XXII. Then the old mans voice resounded, and from wall andbeam rebounded,With grandeur, like the organs swell, where ancientworlds adore: Angel—^Darling—^let me grasp thee ! Let these armsonce only clasp thee,And wit
. The palace beautiful : and other poems . ng lingers,Then clasps the Sacred Symbol with his hands unto Herheart! XXI. Like music born of Sorrow, but sweet as Loves to-mor-row,There came these words of comfort, and all lovingly theyfell: I am worthy now to wear it. Father—Mother—you canspare it;For your Child, through deep repentance, made theCurse a Holy Spoil. 174 CHRISTMAS EVE. XXII. Then the old mans voice resounded, and from wall andbeam rebounded,With grandeur, like the organs swell, where ancientworlds adore: Angel—^Darling—^let me grasp thee ! Let these armsonce only clasp thee,And with arms outspread and groping, he fell forward tothe floor. XXIII. There crept a hush on Nature, and each dumb and browsingcreatureTurnd its head with instinct reverence unto the sacredEast;And midway of the Heaven burst the imperial Star ofEven;For the tyrant Wind was broken, and the Wintrystorm had ceased. XXIV. The solemn bells were chiming, in a measured cadence tim-ingThe quick pulsations of the world when dies AnotherDay; •. CHRISTMAS EVE. lib And all the hosts of glory in sweet murmurs told the storyOf our Blessed Saviours Coming, and the Manger whereHe lay. XXV. The silent moon swept gleaming mid planet-torches stream-ing,And paved the floor with quaint designs of pearl andsilver bands;But still the old man sleeping, his Christmas Eve waskeepingProne in the ghastly radiance, with his face upon hishands. D THE DYING YEAR. lYINGatlast, Old Year! Anotlier stroke of yonder clock, and thouWilt pass tlie threshold of the world we see,Into the world where Yesterday and NowBlend with the hours of the No More To Be. I saw the moon last nightRise like a crown from the dim mountains head And to the Council of the Stars take way ;For thou, the King, though kinsman of the dead, Swayd still the sceptre of Another Day. I see the moon and misty as a mourners eye Behind a vail; or, like a coin to sealThe lids of Times last-bom to majesty, Touchd with the dark
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1865
