Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/418

SONGS AND BALLADS But never a word from their lips is heard,

And none their passing know.

Ere the first streak of dawn

St. Mark's again they near,

And by a vault the Nine Men halt,

Their Governor's voice to hear.

Each year our borders spread!

Lo, one by one, the landmarks gone,

And marvels come instead!

Nor a garden-plot we knew,

And but a paling marks the spot

Where erst my pear-tree grew.

Our walks are wearier still,—

Perchance and it were best,

So little of worth is left on earth,

To break no more our rest?"

Thus speaks old Petrus doubtfully

And shakes his valiant head,

When—on the roofs a sound of hoofs,

A rattling, pattering tread!

The bells of reindeer tinkle,

The Dutchmen plainly spy

St. Nicholas, who drives his team

Across the roof-tops nigh.

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, 388