Christmas poems
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When Christmas Comes
© Virna Sheard
For thee, my small one--trinkets and new toys,
The wine of life and all its keenest joys,
When Christmas comes.
For me, the broken playthings of the past
That in my folded hands I still hold fast,
When Christmas comes.
Practising The Anthem
© Ada Cambridge
A summer wind blows through the open porch,
And, 'neath the rustling eaves,
A summer light of moonrise, calm and pale,
Shines through a vale of leaves.
The Borough. Letter III: The Vicar--The Curate
© George Crabbe
THE VICAR.
WHERE ends our chancel in a vaulted space,
January Jumps About
© George Barker
January jumps about
in the frying pan
trying to heat
his frozen feet
like a Canadian.
To Bayard Taylor Beyond Us
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AS here within I watch the fervid coals,
While the chill heavens without shine wanly white,
I wonder, friend! in what rare realm of souls,
You hail the uprising Christmas-tide to-night!
Christmas, 1884
© George MacDonald
Though in my heart no Christmas glee,
Though my song-bird be dumb,
Jesus, it is enough for me
That thou art come.
The Escape of the Old Grey Squirrel
© Alfred Noyes
All the same, one never knew.
All things come to those who wait -
Isles of palm in rose and blue,
India, China and Peru,
And the Golden Gate.
Seen By The Waits
© Thomas Hardy
Through snowy woods and shady
We went to play a tune
To the lonely manor-lady
By the light of the Christmas moon.
By The Fireside : King Witlaf's Drinking-horn
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons,
Ere yet his last he breathed,
To the merry monks of Croyland
His drinking-horn bequeathed,--
The Princess (prologue)
© Alfred Tennyson
Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
Christmas Morn
© Claire Nixon
Cold frosty mornings
Ice on window pain
Huddle under coats
keep the warmth in
Christmas, 1918
© Edgar Albert Guest
They give their all, this Christmastide, that peace on earth shall reign;
Upon the snows of Flanders now, brave blood has left its stain;
With ribbons red we deck our gifts; theirs bear the red of pain.
Sonnets At Christmas II
© Allen Tate
Ah, Christ, I love you rings to the wild sky
And I must think a little of the past:
Two Christmas Eves
© Edith Nesbit
Don't go to sleep; you mustn't sleep
Here on the frozen floor! Yes, creep
Closer to me. Oh, if I knew
What is this something left to do!
The Ballad of the White Horse
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night-
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
