CHRISTMAS NIGHT.
![I](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3d/Poems_Eckley_I.jpg/41px-Poems_Eckley_I.jpg)
I sate at my organ playing,
Fitful gleams from the sea-coals bright,
The garments of night were fraying.
They draped my room in weirdest gloom,
They frescoed the walls of gray,
Tho' glint of gold, and a scarlet plume
Deck'd the shroud of the corpse of day.
They frescoed the walls of gray,
Tho' glint of gold, and a scarlet plume
Deck'd the shroud of the corpse of day.
I cannot tell you what I played,
For I scarce could see the keys,
As I felt out the harmony that stray'd
Through my soul like a heavenly breeze;
For I scarce could see the keys,
As I felt out the harmony that stray'd
Through my soul like a heavenly breeze;
And breathed vague tuneful numbers,
Some old and forgotten rhyme,
That memory still encumbers
With the ring of a first-love chime.
Some old and forgotten rhyme,
That memory still encumbers
With the ring of a first-love chime.