December

Now last of all here comes cold proud December;
Last lies it on the calendar, not least.
Glowing alone, the old year’s dying ember
Springs to short life to grace the final feast.
Oh, barren month, that yet gives birth to winter,
Though thou dost treat with cold disdain the sun,
Hast thine own joys indeed. Hail, Christmas, enter!
We’ll have more cheer before the old year’s done.
Peace be on earth, to all mankind goodwill!
This is not the time for war and petty quarrels –
Listen! The waifs that outside sweetly trill
Aged, familiar, and yet well-loved carols!
The herald angels sing of second birth,
And tidings of great joy, and peace on earth.