Poems (Acton)/The Song of December
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THE SONG OF DECEMBER.
Sternly I come with my aspect drear,
For no beauty my presence hath,
Not a flower to twine round my temples sere,
And the snow-wreath clouds my path.
While the skeleton arms of the leafless trees
Wave high when my face they see,
And sad is the moan of the evening breeze,
As it whispers its tale to me;
List to its cry as it steals o'er the plain,
"Chilling December comes hither again."
For no beauty my presence hath,
Not a flower to twine round my temples sere,
And the snow-wreath clouds my path.
While the skeleton arms of the leafless trees
Wave high when my face they see,
And sad is the moan of the evening breeze,
As it whispers its tale to me;
List to its cry as it steals o'er the plain,
"Chilling December comes hither again."
Wild sweep the clouds through the wintry sky,
When I come in my might so strong,
With a shivering sound does the wind rush by,
As it beareth my car along.
The rocking bark on the troubled sea
Bends down to my cutting blast,
And the mad waves lower their crests to me,
When my shadow is o'er them cast:
Hark to their voice as they dash o'er the main,
"Storm December, thou comest again."
When I come in my might so strong,
With a shivering sound does the wind rush by,
As it beareth my car along.
The rocking bark on the troubled sea
Bends down to my cutting blast,
And the mad waves lower their crests to me,
When my shadow is o'er them cast:
Hark to their voice as they dash o'er the main,
"Storm December, thou comest again."
Yet rugged and stern though my nature seem,
I joy in the ringing laugh,
And the misletoe wakens bright thoughts I ween,
As it twines round my ancient staff;
And hearts are glad as my end draws near,
For they cherish this truth right well,
That with smiles and glad voices and festal cheer,
They must ring out my parting knell.
And young lips chaunt 'mid the dance's chain,
"Merry December, we hail thee again."
I joy in the ringing laugh,
And the misletoe wakens bright thoughts I ween,
As it twines round my ancient staff;
And hearts are glad as my end draws near,
For they cherish this truth right well,
That with smiles and glad voices and festal cheer,
They must ring out my parting knell.
And young lips chaunt 'mid the dance's chain,
"Merry December, we hail thee again."
When the yule log blazes in cot and hall,
With its ruddy and cheerful light,
When the holly-bough decks the pictured wall,
And blushes and smiles are bright,
Let my coming, ye earth-born, bring kindly aid
To those who your bounty need,
From the feast that to honour me well ye've made,
Cast some crumbs to the poor that plead;
Let not their prayer for your pity be vain,
So shall they yearn for December again.
With its ruddy and cheerful light,
When the holly-bough decks the pictured wall,
And blushes and smiles are bright,
Let my coming, ye earth-born, bring kindly aid
To those who your bounty need,
From the feast that to honour me well ye've made,
Cast some crumbs to the poor that plead;
Let not their prayer for your pity be vain,
So shall they yearn for December again.
May care at my death from each bosom pass,
Nor leave on a brow its trace,
While the rich wine mantles in sparkling glass
'Mid many a joyous face,
As a parting song from the young and gay
Falls cheeringly sweet on my ear,
List to my prayer ere I vanish away
To give place to the new-born year;
With spirit and lip as ye join in the strain,
"Long may ye welcome December again."
H. A.
Nor leave on a brow its trace,
While the rich wine mantles in sparkling glass
'Mid many a joyous face,
As a parting song from the young and gay
Falls cheeringly sweet on my ear,
List to my prayer ere I vanish away
To give place to the new-born year;
With spirit and lip as ye join in the strain,
"Long may ye welcome December again."
H. A.