A CHRISTMAS ENTRY

SHALL I sing a song on the bleak new year,
When the snow lies deep on valley and plain—
Shall I chirp of winter and Christmas cheer,
Or pipe to the season a gay refrain?

I will sing of a maiden I knew of old,
Ere my heart was chilled or my head was gray—
Of a Saxon maiden, with locks of gold,
Who walked with me in the vanished way.

For the skies are gloomier ever since
They took her off on the loathsome bier;
And a deadness broods on the autumn tints,
And a vapid taste on the Christmas cheer.

So, Nancy Shepard, I sing of you,
In the Dorian strain of early days.
I will praise your eyes of the deepest blue,
Your winsome looks and your winning ways.

For you were fairest where all were fair;
Where all were graceful you were the Grace.
You walked the world with a queenly air,
And the light of heaven was in your face.

Alas for the life you were meant to bless;
Alas for the riches that rot and rust;
Alas, that beauty and loveliness
Should fade so soon to the common dust

And I, who have turned my fiftieth year,
Watching the coming and going ships,
Am entering items of beauty here,
To eyes of azure and coral lips!

A hard-faced merchant, in love with gain,
Wise in the ways of the Rascal Man—
Shall I change my white winged birds o’ the main
For a lovelorn ditty, and pipes, and Pan?

But I file away, as a thing apart,
The cherished memory of that maid
In the warmest niche of a world-worn heart.
The rest may go—to the winds of trade.

For the world is cunning, and hard, and cold;
And the life we live has so little in’t;—
Like a walking body without a soul—
Or a julep—without the ice and mint.