A Yule-Tide Carol
Reading edition
O lightly lift thy finger, Thou loving lutanist, And let around us linger Thy music’s mellow mist! Aye, let the strain beat faster In captivating time, And mirth shall be our master Until the midnight chime! Noel!—hang high the holly While leaps the Yule-log’s light; We’ll drive gray Melancholy Abroad into the night! With silvery touch and tingle, Like brooks ’twixt sunny swards, Each soaring voice shall mingle And marry with the chords; So shall the liquid laughter Of mirth and music rule, Till rings the roof-tree’s rafter With revelries of Yule. Noel!—hang high the holly, And twine the ivy-tod; My merries, we’ll be jolly, And spurn care like a clod!