The winds blew crisp and cold,
And snow lay in a white-washed 'guise
On oak trees, staunch and old.
The sky was blue, the drifts knee-deep
As snowflakes fluttered down,
While high above the hemlock sighed
A faint melodious sound.
Across
the vale the star of night
Broke through the frigid morn,
And scattered rays of hope and peace. . .
Today, the Child was born.
Then
firethorn threw shimmering beads
Amid the sun-kissed laurel;
Bright holly bushes shook their limbs
With shades of sparkling coral.
The birds sang on this blessed day
With wonderous trills and sounds,
The humble pines took time to pray
And bowed their branches down.
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