Poems (Eckley)/Christmas Night

by Sophia May Eckley

CHRISTMAS NIGHT.

N gloaming light on Christmas night,
 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.

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;

And breathed vague tuneful numbers,
 Some old and forgotten rhyme,
That memory still encumbers
 With the ring of a first-love chime.

With Handel I seemed communing,
 Till my spirit was almost lost
To earth's discords and untuning,
 Her warfare, bloodshed and frost.

Then I fell into listless musing,
 Dreamily fingered the chords,
The harmony still unloosing,
 That could find no vent in words.

In gloaming light, on Christmas night,
 I sate at my organ playing,
While fitful gleams from the sea-coals bright,
 The garments of night were fraying.

They shadow'd my room in spectral gloom,
 They frescoed my walls of gray,
Tho' glint of gold and a scarlet plume
 Deck'd the shroud of the dying day.

Bath, 1862.