Again at Christmas did we weave

圣诞节，我们又在用冬青

       The holly round the Christmas hearth;

　　编着装点节日的壁炉；

       The silent snow possess'd the earth,

　　无声的积雪把大地镇住，

And calmly fell our Christmas-eve:

我们的圣诞夜静静降临。

The yule-log sparkled keen with frost,

冻住的大木段火花直爆，

       No wing of wind the region swept,

　　没有一丝风掠过这地方，

       But over all things brooding slept

　　但在郁郁沉沉的万物上，

The quiet sense of something lost.

有种失落之感悄悄笼罩。

As in the winters left behind,

像以往那些冬天里一样，

      Again our ancient games had place,

　　我们又玩起从前的游戏。

      The mimic picture's breathing grace,

　　照艺术品摆出逼真姿势，

And dance and song and hoodman-blind.

再加唱歌、跳舞和捉迷藏。

Who show'd a token of distress?

谁流露一点忧伤的征兆？

      No single tear, no mark of pain:

　　没有一滴泪，没痛苦痕迹——

      O sorrow, then can sorrow wane?

　　悲痛啊，悲痛也能够消逝？

O grief, can grief be changed to less?

哀愁啊，哀愁也能够变少？

O last regret, regret can die!

极度的抱憾哪，能够凋殒！

      No—mixt with all this mystic frame,

　　不；同一切难解心情相缠，

      Her deep relations are the same,

　　哀痛的深层联系仍不变，

But with long use her tears are dry.

但是因哀痛已久泪流尽。