58
Christmas Night.
With Handel I seemed communing,
Till my spirit was almost lost
To earth's discords and untuning,
Her warfare, bloodshed and frost.
Till my spirit was almost lost
To earth's discords and untuning,
Her warfare, bloodshed and frost.
Then I fell into listless musing,
Dreamily fingered the chords,
The harmony still unloosing,
That could find no vent in words.
Dreamily fingered the chords,
The harmony still unloosing,
That could find no vent in words.
In gloaming light, on Christmas night,
I sate at my organ playing,
While fitful gleams from the sea-coals bright,
The garments of night were fraying.
I sate at my organ playing,
While fitful gleams from the sea-coals bright,
The garments of night were fraying.
They shadow'd my room in spectral gloom,
They frescoed my walls of gray,
Tho' glint of gold and a scarlet plume
Deck'd the shroud of the dying day.
They frescoed my walls of gray,
Tho' glint of gold and a scarlet plume
Deck'd the shroud of the dying day.
Bath, 1862.
