Sonnet on Christmas

WITH footstep slow, in furry pall clad,

His brows enwreath'd with holly never-sear,

Old Christmas comes, to close the waned year;

And ay the Shepherd's heart to make right glad;

Who, when his teeming flocks are homeward had,

To blazing hearth repairs, and nut-brown beer,

And views, well-pleas'd, the ruddy prattlers dear

Hug the grey mongrel; meanwhile maid and lad

Squabble for roasted crabs*.--Thee, Sire, we hail,          [crabapples]

Whether thine aged limbs thou dost enshroud,

In vest of snowy white, and hoary veil,

Or wrap'st thy visage in a sable cloud;

Thee we proclaim with mirth and cheer, nor fail

To greet thee well with many a carol loud.

John Codrington Bampfylde