Sonnet on the shortest day
I always lov’d the shortest day,
Though dull the aspect of the year,
Each hearth beams forth a kindlier ray,
Reminding us of Christmas cheer!
And friends assemble far and near,
With lightened hearts and humours gay;
And dearest ties seem still more dear,
Rang’d round the board of Christmas Day.
Long may such scenes on England smile,
As times and seasons pass away,
And still more free from guilt and guile,
Lur’d by the Star of Bethlehem’s ray,
To where is neither storm nor strife,
Nor shortest day, nor longest life.