Father ChristmasWhat blustring Noise now interrupts my Sleepe?
What echoing Shouts thus cleaue my chrystal Deep?
And call mee hence from out my watrie Court?
What Melodie, what Sounds of Joy and Sport,
Bee these heere hurld from eu’rie neighbour Spring?
With what lowd Rumours doe the Mountaines ring?
Which in unusuall Pompe on tip—toes stand,
And (full of Wonder) ouer—looke the Land?
Whence come these glittring Throngs, these Meteors bright,
This golden People set unto my Sight?
Whence doth this Praise, Applause, and Loue, arise?
What Load—starre east—ward draweth thus all Eyes?… -William Drummond