Christmas poems
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Pilgrims To The East
© Katharine Tynan
This Christmas-time my son will come,
God willing, to the Holy Place
And by the manger's little room
Will bend his knee and bow his face,
Eager, with shepherds and with kings,
For to behold the Holy Things.
Love and Age
© Thomas Love Peacock
I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,
When I was six and you were four;
Lo gens temps de pascor
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Bel Vezer, si no fos
mos enans totz en vos
laissat agra chansos
per mal dels enoyos.
Christmas Song of the Old Children
© George MacDonald
Well for youth to seek the strong,
Beautiful, and brave!
We, the old, who walk along
Gently to the grave,
Only pay our court to thee,
Child of all Eternity!
A Christmas Hymn
© Joseph Furphy
The Seraph-song of morning's prime
That hail'd Messiah's birth,
The charter of a coming time
When Love shall rule the earth,
Rings from yon far Judaean hill
Eclogue
© John Donne
ALLOPHANES FINDING IDIOS IN THE COUNTRY IN
CHRISTMAS TIME, REPREHENDS HIS ABSENCE
FROM COURT, AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL
OF SOMERSET ; IDIOS GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF
HIS PURPOSE THEREIN, AND OF HIS ACTIONS
THERE.
The Blessed Day
© Louisa May Alcott
"What shall little children bring
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day?
The Gypsy
© Edward Thomas
A fortnight before Christmas Gypsies were everywhere:
Vans were drawn up on wastes, women trailed to the fair.
Marmion: Introduction to Canto VI.
© Sir Walter Scott
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
Thoughts Of Christmas-Day In India
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
IT is Christmas, and the sunshine
Lies golden on the fields,
And flowers of white and purple
Yonder fragrant creeper yields.
Cultural Exchange
© Langston Hughes
Pushcarts fold and unfold
In a supermarket sea.
And we better find out, mama,
Where is the colored laundromat
Since we move dup to Mount Vernon.
Christmas, 1873
© George MacDonald
Christmas-Days are still in store:-
Will they change-steal faded hither?
Or come fresh as heretofore,
Summering all our winter weather?
Smells
© Christopher Morley
WHY is it that the poet tells
So little of the sense of smell?
These are the odors I love well:
A Christmas Carol
© George MacDonald
Babe Jesus lay in Mary's lap,
The sun shone in his hair;
And this was how she saw, mayhap,
The crown already there.
Dorchester Amphitheatre .
© John Kenyon
By Rome's old amphitheatre I stood,
Still pretty perfect, on the Weymouth road,
At Nine Of The Night
© Charles Causley
At nine of the night I opened my door
That stands midway between moor and moor,
And all around me, silver-bright,
I saw that the world had turned to white.
The Soldier's Christmas Eve
© Anonymous
In a southern forest gloomy and old,
So lately the scene of a terrible fight,
Christmas In The Heart
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The snow lies deep upon the ground,
And winter's brightness all around
