CHRISTMAS IN EDINBOROUGH.

I.

Sheath'd is the river as it glideth by,
Frost-pearl'd are all the boughs of forests old,
The sheep are huddling close upon the wold,
And over them the stars tremble on high.
Pure joys these winter nights around me lie;
'Tis fine to loiter through the lighted streets
At Christmas-time, and guess from brow and
pace

The doom and history of each one we meet,
What kind of heart beats in each dusky case;
Whiles, startled by the beauty of a face
In a shop-light a moment. Or instead,
To dream of silent fields where calm and deep
The sunshine lieth like a golden sleep-
Recalling sweetest looks of summers dead.

Alexander Smith.

Christmas in Edinborough.

187

CHRISTMAS IN EDINBOROUGH.

II.

Joy like a stream flows through the Christmas streets,

But I am sitting in my silent room,
Sitting all silent in congenial gloom

To-night, while half the world the other greets With smiles and grasping hands and drinks and meats,

I sit and muse on my poetic doom;
Like the dim scent within a budded rose,
A joy is folded in my heart; and when
I think on poets nurtured 'mong the throes
And by the lowly hearths of common men,-
Think of their works, some song, some swelling

ode

With gorgeous music growing to a close,
Deep muffled as the dead-march of a god,—
My heart is burning to be one of those.

Alexander Smith.

AROUND THE CHRISTMAS LAMP.

The wind may shout as it likes without;
It may rage, but cannot harm us;

For a merrier din shall resound within,
And our Christmas cheer will warm us.
There is gladness to all at its ancient call,
While its ruddy fires are gleaming,

And from far and near, o'er the landscape drear,
The Christmas light is streaming.

All the frozen ground is in fetters bound;
Ho! the yule-log we will burn it;

For Christmas is come in ev'ry home,

To summer our hearts will turn it.

There is gladness to all at its ancient call,
While its ruddy fires are gleaming;

And from far and near, o'er the landscape drear,
The Christmas light is streaming.

J. L. Molloy.

Christmas-Eve.

189

CHRISTMAS-EVE.

Alone-with one fair star for company,
The loveliest star among the hosts of night,
While the gray tide ebbs with the ebbing
light-

I pace along the darkening wintry sea.
Now round the yule-log and the glittering tree
Twinkling with festive tapers, eyes as bright
Sparkle with Christmas joys and young de-
light

As each one gathers to his family.

But I-a waif on earth where'er I roamUprooted with life's bleeding hopes and fears, From that one heart that was my heart's sole home,

Feel the old pang pierce through the severing

years,

And as I think upon the years to come,

That fair star trembles through my falling

tears.

Mathilde Blind.

In the beautiful Land of Books; Where the friends of childhood roam Through most delightful nooks.

I'll rent the unfinished floor
In Aladdin's palace built,
Whose walls, to the outer door,
Are ivory and gilt.

And the Caliph-Haroun—there
Will pass in his deft disguise;
But him I'll know by his air
So grand, and his eagle eyes.

And Cinderella, too,

Will weep when her sisters whip her: And I'll be the Prince-or you— Who will find her crystal slipper.

And O, what fun it will be

With Robin the Bobbin to feast, Or to frequently call and see

The Beauty and the Beast.