Lord Alfred Tennyson

The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The read more

The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The Christmas bells from hill to hill
Answer each other in the mist.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, read more

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

Broad-based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.

Broad-based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.

And statesmen at her council met
Who knew the seasons when to take
Occasion by the hand, read more

And statesmen at her council met
Who knew the seasons when to take
Occasion by the hand, and make
The bounds of freedom wider yet.

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.