MINSTRELS
William Wordsworth


The minstrels played their Christmas tune
Tonight beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.

Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check, the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.

And who but listened? – till was paid
Respect to every inmate’s claim,
The greeting given, the music played
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And ‘Merry Christmas’ wished to all.

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There is a discussion thread in the BS section which I think should belong in the song and music (main) part of Mudcat: Poems that speak to you I found that thread while searching to see whether "Minstrels" was already posted on Mudcat. That discussion includes both a Wordsworth poem and a Longfellow poem, "Walter Von Der Vogelweide" including the verse
Saying, "From these wandering minstrels
I have learned the art of song;
Let me now repay the lessons
They have taught so well and long."