Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/411

GUESTS AT YULE And the fiery planets drift,

Then from our commingled souls

Clouds of passion and of power,

Flames of incense, lift!

Come, for the world is turning

To meet the morning star!

Answer my spirit's yearning

And seek the arms that call thee from afar:

Let them close—ah, let them close

Around thee now, and lure thee to repose.

GUESTS AT YULE

''Noël! Noël!''

Thus sounds each Christmas bell

Across the winter snow.

But what are the little footprints all

That mark the path from the church-yard wall?

They are those of the children waked to-night

From sleep by the Christmas bells and light:

Ring sweetly, chimes! Soft, soft, my rhymes!

Their beds are under the snow.

''Noël! Noël!''

Carols each Christmas bell.

What are the wraiths of mist

That gather anear the window-pane

Where the winter frost all day has lain?

They are soulless elves, who fain would peer

Within, and laugh at our Christmas cheer:

Ring fleetly, chimes! Swift, swift, my rhymes!

They are made of the mocking mist.

''Noël! Noël!''

Cease, cease, each Christmas bell! 381