A Christmas Gambol Oft Could

Still Are The Thoughts To Memory Dear.

The Lover's Pleasure, Like That Of The Hunter, Is In The Chase, And The Brightest Beauty Loses Half Its Merit, As The Flower Its Perfume, When The Willing Hand Can Reach It Too Easily. There Must Be Doubt; There Must Be Difficulty And Danger.

The Summer Dawn's Reflected Hue To Purple Changed Lock Katrine Blue, Mildly And Soft The Western Breeze Just Kiss'd The Lake, Just Stirr'd The Trees, And The Pleased Lake, Like Maiden Coy, Trembled But Dimpled Not For Joy.

Many A Law, Many A Commandment Have I Broken, But My Word Never.

So Faithful In Love, And So Dauntless In War, There Never Was Knight Like Young Lochinvar.