Improvement Era, 1897 by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Religion

December.

'Tis dark December now. The early eves

Are starless, long, and cold; the rain winds moan

Like pined spirits; blind night seems never gone;

Day is delightless; and grey morning grieves.

The robin perches most on household eaves,

Craving the crumbs he sings for from the kind.

The slim deer screen them from the bitter wind

Behind broad trees, crouching on fallen leaves.

But though all things seem sad without our doors,

Within sits Christmas at the board of cheer,

Heaped with large tithings of the month and year;

And Wit now has his word, and Laughter roars,

Till Music breathes her voice; and Home's warm hearth

Hath its bright eyes, brisk fires, dance, song, and mirth.

CORNELIUS WEBBE.

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