Than are to-night assembled here,
For Christmas still comes once a year.
For those old times are dead and gone,
And those who hailed them passed away
Yet still there lingers many a one,
To welcome in old Christmas Day.
The poor will many a care forget,
The debtor think not of his debt;
But, as they each enjoy their cheer,
Wish it was Christmas all the year.
And still around these good old times
We hang like friends full loath to part,
We listen to the simple rhymes
Which somehow sink into the heart,
“Half musical, half melancholy,”
Like childish smiles that still are holy;
A masquer's face dimmed with a tear,
For Christmas comes but once a year.
The bells which usher in that morn,
Have ever drawn my mind away
To Bethlehem, where Christ was born,
And the low stable where He lay,
In which the large-eyed oxen fed;
To Mary bowing low her head,
And looking down with love sincere ;
Such thoughts bring Christmas once a year.
At early day the youthful voice,
Heard singing on from door to door,
Makes the responding heart rejoice,
To know the children of the
For once are happy all day long;
We smile and listen to the song,
The burden still remote or near,
"Old Christmas comes but once a year."
Upon a gayer, happier scene,
Never did holly berries peer,
Or ivy throw its trailing green,
On brighter forms than there are here,
Nor Christmas in his old arm-chair
Smile upon lips and brows more fair:
Then let us sing amid our cheer,
Old Christmas still comes once a year.
THE old north breeze through the skeleton trees
Is chanting the year out drearily ;
But loud let it blow, for at home we know
That the dry logs crackle cheerily ;
And the frozen ground is in fetters bound;
But pile up the wood, we can burn it;
For Christmas is come, and in every home
To summer our hearts can turn it
Wassail! wassail!
Here's happiness to all, abroad and at home;
Wassail! wassail!
Here's happiness to all, for Christmas is come.
And far and near, o'er landscape drear,
From casements brightly streaming,
With cheerful glow on the fallen snow
The ruddy light is gleaming;
The wind may shout as it likes without,
It may bluster, but never can harm us;
For a merrier din shall resound within,
And our Christmas feelings warm us.
Wassail! wassail!
Here's happiness to all, abroad and at home;
Wassail! wassail!
Here's happiness to all, for Christmas is come.
The flowers are torpid in their beds,
Till spring's first sunbeam sleeping;
Not e'en the snowdrops' pointed heads
Along the earth are peeping;
But groves remain on each frosted pane
Of feathery trees and bowers;
And fairer far we'll maintain they are
Than summer's gaudiest flowers.
Wassail! wassail!
Here's happiness to all, abroad and at home;
Wassail! wassail!
Here's happiness to all, for Christmas is come.
Let us drink to those eyes we most dearly prize,
We can show how we love them after;
The fire blaze cleaves to the bright holly leaves,
And the mistletoe hangs from the rafter;
We care not for fruit, whilst we here can see
Their scarlet and pearly berries;
On Christmas eve the mass was sung;
That only night, in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dressed with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry men go,
To gather in the mistletoe;
Then opened wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doffed his pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose.
The lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of "post and pair."
All hailed, with uncontrolled delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.
The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
Went roaring up the chimney wide;
The huge hall-table's oaken face,
Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord.
Then was brought in the lusty brawn
By old blue-coated serving-man;
Then the grim boar's head frowned on high, Crested with bays and rosemary.
Well can the green-garbed ranger tell
How, when, and where, the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.
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