Christmas Eve.
Shimmer of laughter,
Glimmer of play,
Flown in a wafture,
Blown in a spray,
From blithe floor and rafter
Over the way!
I know it is feast-day, a
Mirth-day for all;
Oh, to the least may a
Birthday befall;
And the high priest play
There in the hall!
Play with his treasures;
He is a child,
Swaying their pleasures,
Being so mild;
The Holy One measures
Mirth for a child.
