The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1871-12-24
NEW ORLEANS. SUNDAY MORNING. DECEMBER a.
All! the FIRE within my crate
Hath more than Raphasl's power.

H ii more sS.s - asp6ssf. power.
I: more thar R.phasl. pser-
And the pictures hanging round me here
No Artists pencil could create,
No Paintsr's art conceive.
we.riss yeathi;pII gr.ses,
Rslf awake and half in . dream.
1h %s,a are hrS ,,n. with osd. mark
Tssso =. . .ss: %i:soas lear;
There are lips unused to Sigh.
An sss:s sss soon . ;s;n sasi die
Fade into the dreary dark,
.hsf P ssa:s ss. sssaYEa as. ssF'
1e.ze H on fbsgI A ssd t tSsx on MI.
Until feel sorrow steal
'$Ssss a z. e isss. e
There a., sf hearts sas snss ant sIssp
Never En mind .ss the shadows oFssg ,,ona
Soon S shsli shi sSii tie Old S from harm;
ssSn sh ssoh Of
All! that face of Mothers.
Sisters. too. and Blothers-
A hnd :; 70 many many other mas
And wherever they are tonight. know
1sls asi s % Ssa or9s ssss nero
With tombstenes in tho background,
And shadow for their names.
And 1T tins ss: nth my pictu.ss Only, q
Keep my ri lSs anasEE I've.
I'm S sitting ,l. me in 4 my pictured room
%assh inc sbs s.Sss i fs INTO gloom
Of r. Ssze
Arc rising before my rsptured gaze.
ssea aFs 70 n s1n shspa
To bring those farof scenes 20 near
And Hs s.s RI: ss s.Ys MIST II hsr''
The past lie past, ana here sit.
IL saa s1s t SUN. e osidbood. skies.
1ss ssis s.:s hi1s Iss
S sss {, si ia S Ws, An. ,s sss,:.
And And t there t they l are again; a.,.
Of a. such s.sSSs s. s s.s
~, The old mans puzzled brain!
But no. it, i. cannot be- " pA''
It's here tonight with me-!
n, Is part Of one Eternity-,
They are not dead-tbey are not fed,
They live and live forevermore.
With ali it's visions fair. .
o. Past! could 60 back 20 thee,
Ny feet have frod path of Care;
am too tired to 20 to 1t.
And thus with visions only,
And the fances they unweave,
keep my Christmas Eve.
I'm sitting alone in my fre.nt room;
But no! the fire Is dying.
Arc sad and j hear them signing. '' s'''
J. he winds have voice to pine
HATH s:a aaa Rsses min. a on thine
Knoweth it veal or woes
How 1t walls In ghost.lke strain.
A. Il it xsse tired of its long. cold fight,
This Ia q night of joy and peace
And Heaven aud Earth are glad!
Perchance DER the fallen leaves,
Which, in their Summer bloom
But, torn from the arms Of their parent trees,
Lie now in their wintry tomb,
Mute types of mans own doom.
And thus with the night winds only,
And the fancies they nnweave,
Alone and yet not lonely,
keep my Christmas Eve.
How long have I been dreaming here
Or have dreamed at ALI
My fire il deadE,my pictures fed
Shifting, fitting wan
In my old arm chair
distinguishing
Round mo, blinking
Till, in the maze of many q dream
I'm not myself; and almost seem
Like one of the shadows there
Well, let the shadows stay!
wonder who they9
cannot cay but almost believe
They know tonight is Christmas Eve
And tomorrow is Christmas Day
All there's nothing like Christmas Eve,
To change Lies bitter gall to sweet
And change the sweet to gall again
To take the theFps from out our feex---
The thorns and all their dreary PAIN
Only to put them back again.
To take old stings from ont heart,
Old stings that made them bleed and smart
Only to sharpen them the more,
And press them back to the hearts own core
All! no eve is like the Christmas Evel
Fears and hopes, and hopes and fears,
Tears and smiles, and smiles and tears,
Cheers and sighs, and signs and cheers,
Sweet and bitter, bitter. sweet,
Bright and dark. and dark and bright
All these mingle, all these meet,
In this great and solemn night.