Hurrying to my moonlit casement, Throwing up the sash, Highest roof to lowest basement Seemed to brightly flash, Glitt'ring white, with Winter's dressing; While each crystal was caressing Purest rays that glanced around it from the moon's pale light. Nature slept in sweetest beauty, Gleaming stars spoke hope and duty: Calmer grew my aching brow, beneath the heavenly sight. Christmas-Eve! the Christian's morrow Soon would dawn on joy and sorrow, Spreading cheer and holy pleasure brightly through the land; Whilst I, lonely, stricken-hearted, Under bitter mem'ries smarted, Standing like an outcast, or as one the world had banned. Sadly to my chair returning, By my fire still brightly burning, Battling with the purer rays that through the window gleamed; Like two spirits floating o'er me, Vividly rays played before me, Each to wrap me in its light that on my forehead streamed. The glowing fire with warm embracing Told of earthly, sinful racing: Warmth and pleasure in its looks, but in its touch sharp pain; While the moonbeams, paler, purer, Spoke of pleasures, sweeter, surer, Oft rejected by Earth's sons for joys that bear a stain. Suddenly with dread I shivered, As the air around me quivered, Laden with the burden of a mighty spirit-tone, Rolling through the midnight stilly, Borne upon the night-wind chilly, Rushing through my chamber, where I sat in dread alone. "Soul!" it cried, in power pealing, "Soul!" the cry was through me stealing, Vibrating through each fibre with a wonder-breeding might. "Soul!" the voice was deeply roaring; "Soul!" rang back from roof and flooring, Booming thro' the silence of the piercing winter night. Now came crashing, wildly dashing, Waves of sound in power splashing, Ringing, swinging, tearing, scaring, Shrieking out in words unsparing, "Soul of sorrow! murm'ring mortal!" Roaring through my chamber portal, Borne thro' window, borne thro' ceiling Ever to my sense revealing, Still the bells these words were pealing, "Soul of sorrow! murm'ring mortal!" "Soul of sorrow! murm'ring mortal!" Till my room seemed filled with bells that rang the self-same strain; While, above the brazen roaring, Mightily the first tone pouring, Boomed out "Soul!" in mighty pow'r, and linked in with the chain. Then an unseen presence o'er me Leant, and from my chamber tore me: Out upon the night-wind I was swept among the sounds, Whirling on amid the pealing, Warning to the city dealing Of the coming morrow, in reverberating rounds.