Christmas In The Woods

 Christmas In The Woods
by Henry Clayton Hopkins

What season can it be but Christmas Eve,
When drowsy Nature's icy fingers weave
Such pure delights in frost-bound earth and sky
As warm the heart and captivate the eye?
The sunset burns across blue-shadowed snow
And gilds the trees, all blackened, with its glow;
The azure heaven sparkles as it fades
To deeper hues that herald nightly shades.
In all the bracing air a gladness floats,
As sweet as music from the swelling throats
Of summer birds, and Nature's children feel
A witchery of concord o'er them steal
Deserting burrow, nest and hollow tree,
In fur and feathers, Little Folks in glee
Dance down the meadow path and forest lane,
And thoughts of cruel traps and guns disdain.
To many a festal tree their gambols lead,
Where stored against the barren winter's need
The golden corn and rosy apples peep
From drifts of snow in luscious, tempting heap.
In jolly circles round and round they go
In step to merry shout of Jay and Crow,
And whistle of the Red-bird, as they flash
Among the trees in many a headlong dash.
Perhaps they do not know 'tis Christmas Eve,
Nor in its vague enchantment sweet believe,
But on this day they feast without a fear,
Who live as foes thro' all the changing year,
Till stars look down with laughing eyes that seem
To send a joyful message on each beam.

The Illustrated Printable Copy Below

Lovely illustrated poem in color of forest animals.