Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/997

 Seem those halls when sunlight launches Shafts of gold thro' leafless branches, Where the winter's feathery mantle blanches Field and farm and lane.

Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.

Drayton.

'Tis where Avon's wood-sprites weave Through the boughs a lace of rime, While the bells of Christmas Eve Fling for Will the Stratford-chime O'er the river-flags emboss'd Rich with flowery runes of frost— O'er the meads where snowy tufts are toss'd—       Strains of olden time.

Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.

Shakespeare's Friend.

'Tis, methinks, on any ground Where our Shakespeare's feet are set. There smiles Christmas, holly-crown'd   With his blithest coronet: Friendship's face he loveth well: 'Tis a countenance whose spell Sheds a balm o'er every mead and dell Where we used to fret.

Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.

Heywood.

More than all the pictures, Ben, Winter weaves by wood or stream, Christmas loves our London, when Rise thy clouds of wassail-steam—