Between the moonlight and the fire In winter twilights long ago, What ghosts we raised for your desire, To make your merry blood run slow! How old, how grave, how wise we grow! No Christmas ghost can make us chill, Save those that troop in mournful row, The ghosts we all can raise at will! The beasts can talk in barn and byre On Christmas Eve, old legends know. As year by year the years retire, We men fall silent then I trow, Such sights hath memory to show, Such voices from the silence thrill, Such shapes return with Christmas snow,-- The ghosts we all can raise at will. Oh, children of the village choir, Your carols on the midnight throw, Oh, bright across the mist and mire, Ye ruddy hearths of Christmas glow! Beat back the dread, beat down the woe, Let's cheerily descend the hill; Be welcome all, to come or go, The ghosts we all can raise at will. ENVOY Friend, sursum corda, soon or slow We part, like guests who've joyed their fill; Forget them not, nor mourn them so, The ghosts we all can raise at will. * * * * * HANG UP THE BABY'S STOCKING [Emily Huntington Miller] Hang up the baby's stocking: Be sure you don't forget; The dear little dimpled darling! She ne'er saw Christmas yet; But I've told her all about it, And she opened her big blue eyes, And I'm sure she understood it-- She looked so funny and wise. Dear! what a tiny stocking! It doesn't take much to hold Such little pink toes as baby's Away from the frost and cold. But then for the baby's Christmas It will never do at all; Why, Santa wouldn't be looking For anything half so small. I know what will do for the baby. I've thought of the very best plan: I'll borrow a stocking of grandma, The longest that ever I can; And you'll hang it by mine, dear mother, Right here in the corner, so! And write a letter to Santa, And fasten it on to the toe. Write, "This is the baby's stocking That hangs in the corner here; You never have seen her, Santa, For she only came this year; But she's just the blessedest baby! And now, before you go, Just cram her stocking with goodies, From the top clean down to the toe." * * * * * THE NEWEST THING IN CHRISTMAS CAROLS ANONYMOUS God rest you, merry gentlemen! May nothing you dismay; Not even the dyspeptic plats Through which you'll eat your way; Nor yet the heavy Christmas bills The season bids you pay; No, nor the ever tiresome need Of being to order gay;