Through furs and wool, the air, so cool,
Is felt or feared no more;
Though gay the steeds with icy beads,
And their flanks are frosted o'er.
A fitful light, scarce yet in sight,
Gleams through the opening wood:
Ah! now they come to their hill-side home,
In merry, merry mood.
Four lovely girls, a string of pearls,
Are found in place of three:
Four daughters fair are gathered there
Around the Christmas-tree.
As roars the fire, their loving sire
A warmer welcome deals;
And, stooping low, on one fair brow
His heart's adoption seals.
A dearer bliss, a mother's kiss,
Awaits the blushing bride:
One look above! then smiles of love
Express her joy and pride.
Once more good cheer removes the tear,
Returns the joyous smile;
Soon laughter, poured around the board,
Rings through the spacious pile.
While dance and song employ them long,
Steals in the cold, gray dawn!
Back to your urn, ye phantoms, turn,
And vanish o'er the lawn.
Stern, though in tears, with Fatal shears,
Time scattered all those pearls!
They fell, unstrung, old graves among;
O'er all the snow-wreath curls!
Yet shines that light from lattice bright,
Wide o'er the grass, or snow;
Still all the room its rays illume,
As when, so long ago,
Its arrowy star recalled the car
Then winding round the wood,
And lime-rock gray threw back the ray
Across the rapid flood.
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