Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/457

Noel! Noel! Hark! a rustling
 On the frosty air,
Where the aspens, all a-quiver,
 Bend their branches bare;
Airy birches, stately maples,
 Black against the sky,
Wave their leafless boughs like banners
 When a king goes by.

Noel! Noel! Sweet-breathed oxen,
 In the farm-yard close,
Lift their horned heads to listen,
 Startled from repose;
Then they sleep as slept the white flocks
 On Judea's hills,
While again the olden glory
 Earth with rapture fills,

Noel! Noel! Little children
 In their soft nests smile,
Dreaming of fair choiring angels
 Floating near the while;
Voiceless snow-birds, half awakened,
 Stir their drowsy wings
With, mayhap, a vague, unconscious
 Sense of heavenly things.

Noel! Noel! In the church-yard,
 Where the low graves lie,
Light winds bear the strains melodious,
 Soft as spirit's sigh;
Do ye hear it, O ye sleepers,
 As it dies and swells?
Hear your ears the mystic music
 Of earth's Christmas bells?