Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/96

THE DUTCH PATROL

Cries Petrus—"All goes well!

Our patron saint still makes his round

At sound of the Christmas bell.

So long as stanch St. Nicholas

Shall guard these houses tall,

There shall come no harm from hostile arm—

No evil chance befall!

Shall have their hosen filled;

The butcher and the baker,

And every honest guild,

Shall merrily thrive and flourish;

Good-night, and be of cheer;

We may safely lay us down again

To sleep another year!"

Once more the pipes are waved,

Stout Petrus gives the sign,

The misty smoke enfolds them round,—

Him and his burghers nine.

All, when the cloud has lifted,

Have vanished quite away,

And the crowing cock and steeple clock

Proclaim 't is Christmas-Day.

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