Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne/Christmas
CHRISTMAS.
The sunbeams glitter on the mountain snow,
And o'er the summit cast a transient glow;
Now silver frost adorns the drooping bower,
My favourite seat in summer's happy hour.
'Twas there, when spring the mantling blossoms shed,
The sweet liburnum cluster'd o'er my head;
And there the robin form'd a mossy nest,
And gaily caroll'd in retirement blest;
Still memory loves to paint the glowing scene,
When autumn tints enrich'd the foliage green.
Even yet the bower is lovely in decay,
Gilt by the "sunbeam of a winter's day;"
For now the frost befringes every thorn,
And sparkles to the radiant smile of morn:
The lucid ice has bound the mountain rill,
No more it murmurs by the cheerful mill.
I hear the village bells upon the gale;
And merry peasants wander thro' the vale;
In gay convivial bands they rove along,
With genuine pleasure and inspiring song;
I meet the rustic troop, and love to trace
The smile of health in every rosy face.
Oh! Christmas, welcome to thy happy reign,
And all the social virtues in thy train;
The Cambrian harper hails thy festal time,
With sportive melody and artless rhyme:
Unlike the bards who sung in days of old,
And all the legends of tradition told;
In gothic castles deck'd with banners gay,
At solemn festivals they pour'd the lay:
Their poor descendant wanders thro' the vales,
And gains a welcome by his artless tales;
He finds a seat in every humble cot,
And hospitality in every spot;
'Tis now he bids the sprightly harp resound,
To bless the hours with genial plenty crown'd.
And now the gay domestic joys we prove,
The smiles of peace, festivity, and love.
"Oh! Christmas, welcome to thy hallow'd reign,
And all the social virtues in thy train;"
Compassion listening to the tale of grief,
Who seeks the child of sorrow with relief;
And every muse with animating glee,
Congenial mirth and cordial sympathy.