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[October, shrugging his shoulders, withdraws into the background, while November throws her pine cones on the fire, and sits down listlessly.]

November.

The earth lies fast asleep, grown tired
Of all that’s high or deep;
There’s nought desired and nought required
Save a sleep.

I rock the cradle of the earth,
I lull her with a sigh;
And know that she will wake to mirth
By and by.

[Through the window December is seen running and leaping in the direction of the door. He knocks.]

November.

[Calls out without rising.]

Ah, here’s my youngest brother come at last:
Come in, December.

[He opens the door and enters, loaded with evergreens in berry, etc.]

November.

Come, and shut the door,
For now it’s snowing fast;
It snows, and will snow more and more;
Don’t let it drift in on the floor.
But you, you’re all aglow; how can you be
Rosy and warm and smiling in the cold?

December.

Nay, no closed doors for me,
But open doors and open hearts and glee
To welcome young and old.

Dimmest and brightest month am I;
My short days end, my lengthening days begin;
What matters more or less sun in the sky,
When all is sun within?

[He begins making a wreath as he sings.

Ivy and privet dark as night,
I weave with hips and haws a cheerful show,
And holly for a beauty and delight,
And milky mistletoe.

While high above them all I set
Yew twigs and Christmas roses pure and pale;
Then Spring her snowdrop and her violet
May keep, so sweet and frail;

May keep each merry singing bird,
Of all her happy birds that singing build:
For I’ve a carol which some shepherds heard
Once in a wintry field.

[While December concludes his song all the other Months troop in from the garden, or advance out of the background. The Twelve join hands in a circle, and begin dancing round to a stately measure as the Curtain falls.]