Christmas in Cuba.

227

CHRISTMAS IN CUBA.

On the hill-side droops the palm,
The air is faint with flowers,
In the wondrous, dream-like calm
Of tropical morning hours.
Like a mirror lies the bay,
And softly on its breast,
In the glow of coming day,
The vessels sway at rest.

Through the tremulous air I hear

The chiming of Christmas bells,
As the sun rises burning and clear
Over the ocean swells.

And birds with singing sweet
Proclaim the glorious morn
When angels thronged to greet
The Christ-child newly born.

But with strong desire I sigh
For a frozen land afar,
Under a cold gray sky,

Where glistens the northern star;
Where a winter of rest and sleep

Embraces mountain and plain,

And meadows their secret keep
To tell it in spring again.

Dearer the pine-clad hills
And valleys wrapped in snow,
Dearer the ice-bound rills,

And roaring winds that blow, Than this tropical calm, and perfume Of jasmine and lily and rose, These flowers that always bloom, This nature without repose.

Alas for the delight

Of a distant fireside, Where loving hearts unite

To keep this Christmas-tide!
Where the hemlock and the pine
Sweet memories recall,

As their fragrant boughs entwine
Around the panelled wall.

O Christ-child pure and fair,
Draw near and dwell with me;

Thy love is everywhere,

On land and on the sea.

I grasp Thy saving hand,
And while to Thee I pray,
Alone, in a foreign land,
I bless this Christmas-day.

Helen S. Conant.

Farewell to Christmas.

229

FAREWELL TO CHRISTMAS.

Now farewell, good Christmas,

Adieu and adieu,

I needs now must leave thee,
And look for a new;
For till thou returnest,
I linger in pain,

And I care not how quickly
Thou comest again.

But ere thou departest,
I purpose to see
What merry good pastime
This day will show me;
For a king of the wassail
This night we must choose,
Or else the old customs
We carelessly lose.

The wassail well spiced

About shall go round,

Though it cost my good master

Best part of a pound:
The maid in the buttery
Stands ready to fill

Her nappy good liquor
With heart and good-will.

And to welcome us kindly
Our master stands by,
And tells me in friendship
One tooth is a-dry.
Then let us accept it

As lovingly, friends;
And so for this Twelfth-day
My carol here ends.

New Christmas Carols, A.D. 1661.

The New Year.

231

THE NEW YEAR.

Hark, the cock crows, and yon bright star
Tells us the day himself's not far;
And see where, breaking from the night,
He gilds the western hills with light.
With him old Janus doth appear,
Peeping into the future year,
With such a look, as seems to say,
The prospect is not good that way.
Thus do we rise ill sights to see,
And 'gainst ourselves to prophesy;
When the prophetic fear of things
A more tormenting mischief brings,
More full of soul-tormenting gall,
Than direst mischiefs can befall.
But stay! but stay! methinks my sight,
Better inform'd by clearer light,
Discerns sereneness in that brow,
That all contracted seem'd but now.
His reversed face may show distaste,
And frown upon the ills are past;
But that which this way looks is clear,
And smiles upon the new-born year.