Canto XXVIII
The time draws near the birth of Christ:The moon is hid; the night is still;The Christmas bells from hill to hillAnswer each other in the mist.
Four voices of four hamlets round,From far and near, on mead and moor,Swell out and fail, as if a doorWere shut between me and the sound:
Each voice four changes on the wind,That now dilate, and now decrease,Peace and goodwill, goodwill and peace,Peace and goodwill, to all mankind.
This year I slept and woke with pain,I almost wish’d no more to wake,And that my hold on life would breakBefore I heard those bells again:
But they my troubled spirit rule,For they controll’d me when a boy;They bring me sorrow touch’d with joy,The merry merry bells of Yule.