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And the Rusty Dusty Miller Will eat of a Christmas-Pie

With Jack the Giant-Killer.

Then come, let us make our homes
In the most frequented nooks

Of the land of elves and

191

gnomes, In the beautiful Land of Books! Charles Henry Lüders.

WAITING.

As little children in a darkened hall
At Christmas-tide await the opening door,
Eager to tread the fairy-haunted floor
Around the tree with goodly gifts for all,
Oft in the darkness to each other call,-
Trying to guess their happiness before-
Or knowing elders eagerly implore
To tell what fortune unto them may fall,-

So wait we in time's dim and narrow room,
And, with strange fancies. or

thought,

Try to divine before the curtain rise

another's

The wondrous scene; forgetting that the gloom Must shortly flee from what the ages sought,— The Father's long-planned gift of Paradise.

C. H. Crandall.

Aunt Mary.

193

AUNT MARY.

A CORNISH CHRISTMAS CHANT.

Now of all the trees by the king's highway,
Which do you love the best?

O! the one that is green upon Christmas-day,
The bush with the bleeding breast.

Now the holly with her drops of blood for me: For that is our dear Aunt Mary's tree.

Its leaves are sweet with our Saviour's name, 'Tis a plant that loves the poor :

Summer and winter it shines the same

Beside the cottage door.

O! the holly with her drops of blood for me: For that is our kind Aunt Mary's tree.

'Tis a bush that the birds will never leave:
They sing in it all day long;

But sweetest of all upon Christmas-eve
Is to hear the robin's song.

"Tis the merriest sound upon earth and sea: For it comes from our own Aunt Mary's tree.

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So, of all that grow by the king's highway, I love that tree the best;

"Tis a bower for the birds upon Christmas-day, The bush of the bleeding breast.

O! the holly with her drops of blood for me: For that is our sweet Aunt Mary's tree.

Robert Stephen Hawker.

The Glad New Day.

195

THE GLAD NEW DAY.

And why should not that land rejoice,
And darkness flee away,

When on its dim, benighted hills
Has dawned the glad new day?
For now behold the shepherds go,
The wondrous babe to see;

Ah, then methinks that all around
Was one grand jubilee!

Rejoice, ye nations blest with peace,

Let all the earth be glad;

The Prince of Peace comes down to-day,

In robes of pity clad.

Yea, thus should all mankind rejoice

On this glad day of love;

But yet, alas! how far we are

From those blest heights above!

Ah! for the time when men shall spend

This day as all men should,

When angels shall with joy attend,

And dwell among the good.

Then will this earth an Eden be,

A Paradise of love;

And all shall know the perfect bliss

Of those bright realms above.

Thomas Moore.

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