How beautiful the march of days
as seasons come and go.
The hand that shaped the rose has wrought
the crystal of the snow.














Has sent the silvery frost of heaven,
the flowing waters sealed
and laid a silent loveliness
on hill and wood and field.














O'er white expanses sparkling pure
the radiant morns unfold,
the solemn spendours of the night
burn brighter through the cold.

























Life mounts in every throbbing vein.
Love deepens round the hearth
and clearer sounds the angel hymn,
goodwill to all on earth.


Francis Whitmarsh Wile

I keep these words in my heart as
the beautiful days march on to Christmas
and I busy myself with parcels and
letters and baking and music and
love of the season.