Voices in the Mist

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.

Four voices of four hamlets round,
From far and near, on mead and moor,
Swell out and fail, as if a door
Were 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.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

This is the third and last of my Christmastide poems to have been written by a former Poet Laureate of England. (The other two were by Sir John Betjeman.) There's one poem yet to come by a former US Poet Laureate, though. Something to look forward to.