And ah! there is many a changeful mood That over my spirit steals; Beneath their spell, and in verses rude, Whatever he dreams or feels. Whatever the fancies this Christmas eve Are haunting the lonely man, Whether they gladden, or whether they grieve, He'll sing them as best he can. Though some of the strings of his lyre are broke This holiest night of the year, Who knows how its melody may wake A Christmas smile or a tear? So on with the mystic song, With its meaning manifold -- Two tones in every word, Two thoughts in every tone; In the measured words that move along One meaning shall be heard, One thought to all be told; But under it all, to be alone -- And under it all, to all unknown -- As safe as under a coffin-lid, Deep meanings shall be hid. Find them out who can! The thoughts concealed and unrevealed In the song of the lonely man. * * * * * I'm sitting alone in my silent room This long December night, Watching the fire-flame fill the gloom With many a picture bright. Ah! how the fire can paint! Its magic skill, how strange! How every spark On the canvas dark Draws figures and forms so quaint! And how the pictures change! One moment how they smile! And in less than a little while, In the twinkling of an eye, Like the gleam of a summer sky, The beaming smiles all die. From gay to grave -- from grave to gay -- The faces change in the shadows gray; And just as I wonder who they are, Over them all, Like a funeral pall, The folds of the shadows droop and fall, And the charm is gone, And every one Of the pictures fade away. Ah! the fire within my grate Hath more than Raphael's power, Is more than Raphael's peer; It paints for me in a little hour More than he in a year; And the pictures hanging 'round me here This holy Christmas eve No artist's pencil could create -- No painter's art conceive; Ah! those cheerful faces, Wearing youthful graces! I gaze on them until I seem Half awake and half in dream. There are brows without a mark, Features bright without a shade; There are eyes without a tear; There are lips unused to sigh. Ah! never mind -- you soon shall die! All those faces soon shall fade, Fade into the dreary dark Like their pictures hanging here. -- Lo! those tearful faces, Bearing age's traces!