Good King Wenceslas looked outOn the feast of Stephen,When the snow lay round about,Deep and crisp and even.Brightly shown the moon that night,Though the frost was cruel,When a poor man came in sight,Gathering winter fuel.Hither, page, and stand by me.If thou know it telling:Yonder peasant, who is he?Where and what his dwelling?Sire, he lives … Continue reading King Wenceslas →