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Any favourite Christmas poems to share?

Discussion in 'Personal' started by lindenlea, Dec 20, 2011.

  1. lindenlea

    lindenlea Star commenter

    Maybe not an absolute classic but still a poem I'm really enjoying this year.
    O Come all ye faithful - Wendy Cope
    Born the King of Angels-
    That's the bit drives music teachers
    Round the bend. "It's An-gels.
    "Two notes. Not A-an-gels."
    I've fought some battles
    With that extra note
    And still get wound up every Christmas.
    Daddy had a different problem
    With the same hymn.
    Sing all ye citizens
    Of Heaven above.
    "Heaven," he asserted,
    "Is not a city.
    "It should be denizens."
    And that was what he sang.
    It wasn't too embarrassing
    But I can't sing the verse
    Without remembering. In recent years
    I have paid tribute to his memory
    By singing, rather quietly,
    "Denizens of Heaven above."
     
  2. lindenlea

    lindenlea Star commenter

    Maybe not an absolute classic but still a poem I'm really enjoying this year.
    O Come all ye faithful - Wendy Cope
    Born the King of Angels-
    That's the bit drives music teachers
    Round the bend. "It's An-gels.
    "Two notes. Not A-an-gels."
    I've fought some battles
    With that extra note
    And still get wound up every Christmas.
    Daddy had a different problem
    With the same hymn.
    Sing all ye citizens
    Of Heaven above.
    "Heaven," he asserted,
    "Is not a city.
    "It should be denizens."
    And that was what he sang.
    It wasn't too embarrassing
    But I can't sing the verse
    Without remembering. In recent years
    I have paid tribute to his memory
    By singing, rather quietly,
    "Denizens of Heaven above."
     
  3. <a name="content">[/URL]When icicles hang by the wall,
    And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
    And Tom bears logs into the hall,
    And milk comes frozen home in pail,
    When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
    Then nightly sings the staring owl,
    To-whit! To-who!&mdash;a merry note,
    While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

    When all aloud the wind doe blow,
    And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
    And birds sit brooding in the snow,
    And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
    When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
    Then nightly sings the staring owl,WS
    To-whit! To-who!&mdash;a merry note,
    While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
     
  4. Doolittle

    Doolittle New commenter

    At Christmas little children sing and merry bells jingle
    The cold winter air makes our hands and faces tingle
    And happy families go to church and cheerily they mingle
    And the whole business is unbelieveably dreadful, if you're single.
    Another Wendy Cope
     
  5. When icicles hang by the wall,
    And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
    And Tom bears logs into the hall,
    And milk comes frozen home in pail,
    When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
    Then nightly sings the staring owl,
    To-whit! To-who!&mdash;a merry note,
    While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

    When all aloud the wind doe blow,
    And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
    And birds sit brooding in the snow,
    And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
    When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
    Then nightly sings the staring owl,
    To-whit! To-who!&mdash;a merry note,
    While greasy Joan doth keel the pot
    W.S.
     

  6. <preThomas Hardy[/QUOTE]
     
  7. I have always wondered about 'Greasy Joan'. That's always been one of my seasonal favourites too.
    When the children were little I always read 'The Night Before Christmas' (or ' A Visit from St Nicholas' ) by Clement Clarke Moore to them at this time of year.
    I still love it and have kept the beautifully illustated book I read it from...

    <table cellpadding="5" align="right"><tr><td>
    [​IMG]
    Illustration by F.O.C. Darley</td></tr></table>
    'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
    Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
    The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
    In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
    The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
    While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
    And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
    Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
    When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
    I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
    Away to the window I flew like a flash,
    Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
    The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
    Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
    When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
    But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
    With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
    I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
    More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
    And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
    "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
    On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
    To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
    Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
    As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
    When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
    So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
    With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
    And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
    The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
    As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
    Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
    He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
    And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
    A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
    And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
    His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
    His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
    His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
    And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
    The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
    And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
    He had a broad face and a little round belly,
    That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
    He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
    And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
    A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
    Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
    He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
    And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
    And laying his finger aside of his nose,
    And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
    He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
    And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
    But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
    "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

     
  8. Bethannie

    Bethannie New commenter

    Knecht Ruprecht (Theodor Storm)....What German child doesn't feel Christmassy when hearing this?...or maybe I'm lucky to have a Mum who could really recite it well?
    T S Eliot 'Journey of the Magi'...another favourite of mine. (As is most of Eliot's poetry)
    But if I could only choose one....it would be the slightly schmaltzy but so evocative :
    Christmas
    by John BetjemanThe
    bells of waiting Advent ring,
    The Tortoise stove is lit again
    And lamp-oil
    light across the night
    Has caught the streaks of winter rain
    In many a
    stained-glass window sheen
    From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

    The
    holly in the windy hedge
    And round the Manor House the yew
    Will soon be
    stripped to deck the ledge,
    The altar, font and arch and pew,
    So that the
    villagers can say
    'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

    Provincial
    Public Houses blaze,
    Corporation tramcars clang,
    On lighted tenements I
    gaze,
    Where paper decorations hang,
    And bunting in the red Town
    Hall
    Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

    And London shops on Christmas
    Eve
    Are strung with silver bells and flowers
    As hurrying clerks the City
    leave
    To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
    And marbled clouds go scudding
    by
    The many-steepled London sky.

    And girls in slacks remember
    Dad,
    And oafish louts remember Mum,
    And sleepless children's hearts are
    glad.
    And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
    Even to shining ones who
    dwell
    Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

    And is it true,
    This most
    tremendous tale of all,
    Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
    A Baby in an
    ox's stall ?
    The Maker of the stars and sea
    Become a Child on earth for me
    ?

    And is it true ? For if it is,
    No loving fingers tying
    strings
    Around those tissued fripperies,
    The sweet and silly Christmas
    things,
    Bath salts and inexpensive scent
    And hideous tie so kindly
    meant,

    No love that in a family dwells,
    No carolling in frosty
    air,
    Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
    Can with this single Truth compare
    -
    That God was man in Palestine
    And lives today in Bread and Wine.
     
  9. Walter De La Mare
    Make it Snow !
    Sitting under the mistletoe
    (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
    One last candle burning low,
    All the sleepy dancers gone,
    Just one candle burning on,
    Shadows lurking everywhere:
    Some one came, and kissed me there.

    Tired I was; my head would go
    Nodding under the mistletoe
    (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
    No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
    Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
    Stooped in the still and shadowy air
    Lips unseen - and kissed me there.

     
  10. Ooh - that's so like The Traveller! Like it.
     
  11. I mean The Listeners! Thought it didn't look right!

     

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