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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409060" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Christmas</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">How grace this hallowed day?<br>Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire,<br>Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire<br> Round which the children play?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Alas! for many a moon,<br>That tongueless tower hath cleaved the Sabbath air,<br>Mute as an obelisk of ice, aglare<br> Beneath an Arctic noon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Shame to the foes that drown<br>Our psalms of worship with their impious drum,<br>The sweetest chimes in all the land lie dumb<br> In some far rustic town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There, let us think, they keep,<br>Of the dead Yules which here beside the sea<br>They've ushered in with old-world, English glee,<br> Some echoes in their sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> How shall we grace the day?<br>With feast, and song, and dance, and antique sports,<br>And shout of happy children in the courts,<br> And tales of ghost and fay?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Is there indeed a door,<br>Where the old pastimes, with their lawful noise,<br>And all the merry round of Christmas joys,<br> Could enter as of yore?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Would not some pallid face<br>Look in upon the banquet, calling up<br>Dread shapes of battles in the wassail cup,<br> And trouble all the place?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> How could we bear the mirth,<br>While some loved reveler of a year ago<br>Keeps his mute Christmas now beneath the snow,<br> In cold Virginian earth?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> How shall we grace the day?<br>Ah! let the thought that on this holy morn<br>The Prince of Peace -- the Prince of Peace was born,<br> Employ us, while we pray!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Pray for the peace which long<br>Hath left this tortured land, and haply now<br>Holds its white court on some far mountain's brow,<br> There hardly safe from wrong!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Let every sacred fane<br>Call its sad votaries to the shrine of God,<br>And, with the cloister and the tented sod,<br> Join in one solemn strain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> With pomp of Roman form,<br>With the grave ritual brought from England's shore,<br>And with the simple faith which asks no more<br> Than that the heart be warm!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He, who, till time shall cease,<br>Will watch that earth, where once, not all in vain,<br>He died to give us peace, may not disdain<br> A prayer whose theme is -- peace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Perhaps ere yet the Spring<br>Hath died into the Summer, over all<br>The land, the peace of His vast love shall fall,<br> Like some protecting wing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Oh, ponder what it means!<br>Oh, turn the rapturous thought in every way!<br>Oh, give the vision and the fancy play,<br> And shape the coming scenes!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Peace in the quiet dales,<br>Made rankly fertile by the blood of men,<br>Peace in the woodland, and the lonely glen,<br> Peace in the peopled vales!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Peace in the crowded town,<br>Peace in a thousand fields of waving grain,<br>Peace in the highway and the flowery lane,<br> Peace on the wind-swept down!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Peace on the farthest seas,<br>Peace in our sheltered bays and ample streams,<br>Peace wheresoe'er our starry garland gleams,<br> And peace in every breeze!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Peace on the whirring marts,<br>Peace where the scholar thinks, the hunter roams,<br>Peace, God of Peace! peace, peace, in all our homes,<br> And peace in all our hearts!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Timrod">Henry Timrod</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409060" data-title="Christmas de Henry Timrod" data-description="How grace this hallowed day?
Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire,
Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire
 Round which the children play?

 Alas! for many a moon,
That tongueless tower hath cleaved the Sabbath air,
Mute as an obe..."></div>
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