He sleeps: all round his cosy cell
His long-stored gifts are waiting use;
And--till awaked--he there doth dwell,
A cosy form in cosy snooze.

THE ARRIVAL.

All precious things, discovered late,
To those who seek them turn up trumps.
Charity works with kindly fate,
The heart in her soft bosom thumps.
She travels under winter skies--
She stayeth not for storm or shocks--
Celestial Grace with tender eyes,
And loving lips, and golden locks.

She comes, well-knowing what she seeks;
She breaks the hedge, she enters there:
Love's flush illumes her maiden cheeks;
She hears Yule's chimes upon the air:
She holds aloft that mystic stalk,
With white globes decked, to lovers dear;
"Now, Father Christmas, wake and walk!"
She whispers in the "Beauty's" ear.

THE AWAKENING.

A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There came a noise of striking clocks.
Twelve strokes! Aroused from slumber rapt,