Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1832.pdf/4

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out upon you, Christmas! Is this the merry time When the red hearth blazed, the harper sung, And the bells rung their glorious chime?

You are called merry Christmas— Like many that I know, You are living on a character Acquired long ago.

The dim lamps glimmer o'er the streets; Through the dun and murky air You may not see the moon or stars, For the fog is heavy there;

As if all high and lovely things Were blotted from the sight, And Earth had nothing but herself Left to her own drear light.

A gloomy crowd goes hurrying by; And in the lamplight's glare, Many a heavy step is seen, And many a face of care.

I saw an aged woman turn To her wretched home again— All day she had asked charity, And all day asked in vain.

The fog was on the cutting wind, The frost was on the flood; And yet how many past that night With neither fire nor food!