Classic Poem

Oh ! 'tis merry when stars are bright
To sing, as you pace along,
Of the things that are dreamt by night,
To the motion of some old song:
For the fancy of mortals teems,
Whether they wake or sleep,
With figures, that shine like dreams,
Then — die in the darkness deep!
Oh! merry are Christmas times ,
And merry the belfry chimes;
But the merriest things
That a man e'er sings.
Are his Midnight Rhymes .

'Tis night when the usurers feel
That their money is thrice repaid;
'Tis night when adorers kneel,
By scores, to the sleeping maid;
'Tis night when the author deems
That his critics are all at bay,
And the gamester regains in dreams
The gold that he lost by day.
Oh! merry are Christmas times, &c.

At night, both the sick and lame
Abandon their world of care;
And the creature that droops with shame
Forgetteth her old despair!
The boy on the raging deep
Laughs loud that the skies are clear;
And the murderer turns, in sleep,
And dreams that a pardon's near!
Oh! merry are Christmas times, &c .

At night, all wrongs are right,
And all perils of life grow smooth;
Then why cometh the fierce day-light,
When fancy is bright as truth?
All hearts, 'tween the earth and the moon,
Recover their hopes again:
Ah, — 'tis pity so sweet a tune
Should ever be jarred by pain!
Yet, — merry are Christmas times, &c .