BY P. C. HUNTINGTON.
Ring out, Christmas bells, that we still may believe
The story of childhood, of dear Christmas eve—
How the saint of years, Saint Nicholas, came
Down the tunnel of glory, the route of the flame.
As clouds turned to snow with the moon in a rift,
And the world seemed so grand with its first Christmas gift,
So children and Christmas together belong
As music is wedded to words of a song.
The hopes that were gold and the hearts that were human,
The songs that were sweet as the loving of woman,
The memories that burn in the heart like an ember,
Are born with this day, the pride of December.
Wake your resonant music, ye bells, everywhere,
That we climb back to childhood on melody's stair,
And stir us to sing with no thought of a sigh—
Merry Christmas to all! Merry Christmas is nigh.
Troy Daily Times. December 24, 1900.