The Waits. In a dull night of December, when the last decayingember Of the fire was faintly flickering, with a randomsort of blaze, Throwing weirdly round the room, forms fantasticin the gloom, Sounds of music, all untimely at this recreant hour,came. An hour or so, meseeming, in my chair had I beendreaming, In the late night all sedately of the Christmaseslong gone ; Thinking of the years gone by—how alone in thembut I Remained of all the throng of friends departedone by one. When this sound of distant singing—faint, sweetechoes ever bringing, Strangely, softly at this hour, all across the silentsnow— Woke me almost with a fear, till there broke uponmine ear The cadence of a chanting I had heard long, longago. Till aroused from my half-sleeping, I knew that theywere keeping The vigil quaint and olden that our Fathers keptbefore, In the days when frost and snow, through their cold-ness were aglow With the warmth of fellow-kindness, in the lustydays of yore. Then memories, rare and olden, of youth’s galamoments golden, Thronged upon me with the fervour of a long for-gotten time ; And the midnight singers’ strain brought all backto me again, Loved voices lost for ever with a many-changingchime. Old faces, with the greeting of many an ancientmeeting, Looked on me, bright and cheery, with the oldfamiliar gaze ; And through the ghostly gloom, fell about mycurtain’d room Old footsteps known and welcomed in the longdeparted days. But most of all up-beaming, with the tender love-lightstreaming, Like a burst of April sunshine from her angeleyes of truth, Came the sweet, immortal smile of a maid for whomawhile My life was life ecstatic, in the morning-tide ofyouth. Till this music heard so quaintly, on the midnightfalling faintly, Fell away into the distance like a passing spiritsong ; And my vision of the past faded slowly out at last, And I knew that I slone remained of all thethrong.