* * * * * MARK WELL MY HEAVY DOLEFUL TALE ANONYMOUS Mark well my heavy doleful tale, For Twelfth-day now is come, And now I must no longer sing, And say no words but mum; For I perforce must take my leave Of all my dainty cheer, Plum-porridge, roast beef, and minced pies, My strong ale and my beer. Kind-hearted Christmas, now adieu, For I with thee must part, And for to take my leave of thee Doth grieve me at the heart; Thou wert an ancient housekeeper, And mirth with meat didst keep, But thou art going out of town, Which makes me for to weep. God knoweth whether I again Thy merry face shall see, Which to good-fellows and the poor That was so frank and free. Thou lovedst pastime with thy heart, And eke good company; Pray hold me up for fear I swoon, For I am like to die. Come, butler, fill a brimmer up To cheer my fainting heart, That to old Christmas I may drink Before he doth depart; And let each one that's in this room With me likewise condole, And for to cheer their spirits sad Let each one drink a bowl. And when the same it hath gone round Then fall unto your cheer, For you do know that Christmas time It comes but once a year. But this good draught which I have drunk Hath comforted my heart, For I was very fearful that My stomach would depart. Thanks to my master and my dame That doth such cheer afford; God bless them, that each Christmas they May furnish thus their board. My stomach having come to me, I mean to have a bout, Intending to eat most heartily; Good friends, I do not flout. * * * * * A CHRISTMAS CAROL CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago. Our God, Heaven cannot hold him Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away, When he comes to reign. In the bleak mid-winter A stable-place sufficed The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ. Angels and archangels May have gathered there; Cherubim and seraphim Thronged the air. But only His Mother, In her maiden bliss, Worshipped her Beloved With a kiss. What can I give Him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb; If I were a wise man, I would do my part,-- Yet what I can I give Him, Give my heart. * * * * * THE GLORIOUS SONG OF OLD EDMUND H. SEARS