by Herman Melville
Now churches are leafy,
Now evergreens reign;
'Tis green Burnam wood
Come to gray Dunsinane!
Now the night it is starry
And lavishly go
In a largess of music
The bells thro' the snow.
Now burn the decanters
Like turrets that rise
All garnet in sunset
Of orient skies.
O, snugged in the Valley,
A homestead of hearts!
Love flies like a shuttle,
And knits while it darts.
Brown brothers, fair sisters,
Bright cousins and all,
Keeping Christmas at table,
The large and the small.
But a kinswoman glideth,
Infantile in grace,
Sits down and is silent —
Medallion in place!
O, the hearth is like ruby,
The curtains they glow;
But she who sits sadly
Her story we know:
The blossom of orange
Turned cypress so soon!
Child-bride of the May-time
Child-widow in June!
Snow-white is her raiment;
And sorrow so mild,
An elf-sorrow seemeth,
As she an elf-child.
In patience she sitteth;
Tho' cometh no balm,
She floats, holy lily,
On waters of calm.
Come pass the decanter!
Our hearts let us cheer,
Yea, I wish Merry Christmas —
But let her not hear!
Last updated March 26, 2023