Christmas in the Heart
The snow lies deep upon the ground,And winter’s brightness all aroundDecks bravely out the forest sere,With jewels of the brave old year.The coasting crowd upon the hillWith some new spirit seems to thrill;And all the temple bells achime.Ring out the glee of Christmas time.
In happy homes the brown oak-boughVies with the red-gemmed holly now;And here and there, like pearls, there showThe berries of the mistletoe.A sprig upon the chandelierSays to the maidens, “Come not here!”Even the pauper of the earthSome kindly gift has cheered to mirth!
Within his chamber, dim and cold,There sits a grasping miser old.He has no thought save one of gain,—To grind and gather and grasp and drain.A peal of bells, a merry shoutAssail his ear: he gazes outUpon a world to him all gray,And snarls, “Why, this is Christmas Day!”
No, man of ice,—for shame, for shame!For “Christmas Day” is no mere name.No, not for you this ringing cheer,This festal season of the year.And not for you the chime of bellsFrom holy temple rolls and swells.In day and deed he has no part—Who holds not Christmas in his heart!