J. Vrchlický (1853–1912)
Above the snow-drift, sound of bells
Is fading into distant space.
The strings of every heart are singing,
Touched, this day, with youthful grace.
Each movement of the branches sees
A crystal shower of ice descend.
From roof to ground the icicles
Like massive organ pipes extend.
As if the earth with lilies bloomed
The fallen snowflakes freezing lie.
God lights up smiles—and window-panes—
And starlight shining in the sky.
Old songs are sounding in my heart,
As dreams to Bethlehem are winging.
Round my head, as in a snow-drift,
Dying sound of sleigh-bells ringing.
Sighing deep, I feel my heart
Once more through seas of rapture glide.
And bells are sounding, lights are burning.
Christmas tide! Oh, Christmas tide!