SEATTLE, _January 14, 1890_.
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_A SOUTHERN CHRISTMAS DAY_.
_Paraphrased from Henry W. Grady’s Editorial._
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NO man or woman living now
Shall e’er again behold
A Christmas day so royal clad,
In robes of purpled gold,
As yesterday sank down to rest,
In perfect, rounded triumph in the West.
A winter day it was—yet shot
With sunshine to the core—
Enchantment’s spell filled all the scene
With power unknown before—
And he who walked abroad could feel
Its subtle mast’ry o’er him softly steal.
Its beauty prodigal he saw—
He breathed elixir pure—
Twas bliss to strive with reaching hand
Its rapture to secure,
And bathe with open fingers where
The waves of warmth and freshness pulsed the air.
The hum of bees but underrode
The whistling wings outspread
Of wild geese, flying through the sky,
As Southwardly they sped—
While embered pale, in drowsy grates,
The fires slept lightly, as when life abates.
And people, marveling, out of doors,
Watched in sweet amaze
The soft winds’ wooing of delight,
Upon this day of days—
Their wooing of the roses fair—
Their kissing lilies, with a lover’s air.
God’s benediction, with the day,
Slow dropping from the skies,
Came down the waiting earth to bless,
And give it glad surprise—
His smile, its light—a radiant flood,
That upward bore the prayer of gratitude.
And through and through its stillness all—
And through its beauty too—
To every heart came mute appeal,
To live a life more true—
And every soul invoking then,
With promise—“Peace on earth—good will to men.”