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12 Christmas poems selected from Christmas in poetry, carols and poems by various authors.
From far away by William Morris.
From far away we come to you, the snow in the street, and the wind on the door, to tell
of great tidings, strange and true.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
From far away we come to you, to tell of great tidings, strange and true.
For as we wandered far and wide, the snow in the street, and the wind on the door, what
happened to your deem there should us be tied.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
There abed when the night was deep, the snow in the streets, and the wind on the door.
There lay three shepherds tending their sheep.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
O ye shepherds, what have ye seen, the snow in the street, and the wind on the door,
to stay your sorrow and heal your teen?
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
On an ox stall this night we saw, the snow in the street, and the wind on the door, a
babe and a maid without a flaw.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
There was an old man there beside, the snow in the street, and the wind on the door.
His hair was white, and his hood was wide.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
And as we gazed this thing upon, the snow in the street, and the wind on the door.
Those twain nailed down to the little one.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
And a marvelous song we straight did hear.
The snow in the street, and the wind on the door.
That slew our sorrow and healed our care.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
Minstrels of a fair and marvelous thing, the snow in the street, and the wind on the door.
No well, no well, no well we sing.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
From far away we come to you, to tell of great tidings, strange and true.
By Kenneth Graham, from the wind in the willows.
Villagers all, this frosty tide, let your doors swing open wide.
The wind may follow and snow beside, yet draw us in by your fire to bid.
Joy shall be yours in the morning.
Here we stand in the cold and sleet, blowing fingers and stamping feet.
Come from far away, you to greet, you by the fire and we in the street, bidding you
joy in the morning.
For air one half of the night was gone, sudden a star has let us on, reigning bliss and
venison, bliss tomorrow and more anon, joy for every morning.
Edmund Joseph, toiled through the snow, saw the star or a stable low, Mary, she might
not further go, welcome thatch and lit her below, joy was hers in the morning.
And then they heard the angels tell, who were the first to cry no well, animals all as
it be fell, in the stable where they did dwell, joy shall be theirs in the morning.
Signs of Christmas, by Edwin Lees.
When on the barns thatched roof is seen, the moss in tuffs of liveliest green, when
Roger to the woodpow goes and, as he turns, his fingers blows, when all around is cold
and drear, be sure that Christmas tide is near.
When up the garden-walk in vain we seek for Flora's lovely train, when the sweet hawthorn
bower is bare, and bleak and cheerless is the air, when all seems dustlet around, Christmas
advances or the ground.
When Tom at Eve comes home from plow and brings the mistletoe's green bow, with milk-white
berries spotted or, and shakes it the sly maids before, then hangs the trophy up on high,
be sure that Christmas tide is near.
When how the woodman, in his clogs, bears home the huge unwieldy logs, that hissing on the
smoldering fire, flame out at last a quivering spire.
When in his hat the holly stands, old Christmas musters up his bends.
When clustered round the fire at night, old William talks of ghost and sprite, and, as a distant
outhouse gate slams by the wind, they fear for weight, while some each shadowy nook explore,
then Christmas pauses at the door.
When Dick comes shivering from the yard, and says the pond is frozen hard, while from
his hat all white with snow, the moisture trickling drops below.
While Carol's sound, the night to cheer, then Christmas and his train are here.
A Christmas hymn by C. France's Alexander
Once in Royal David's city stood a lowly cattle shed, where a mother laid her baby in
a manger for his bed.
Mary was that mother mild, Jesus Christ her little child.
He came down from earth to heaven, who is God and Lord of all, and his shelter was
a stable, and his cradle was a stall.
With the poor, and mean, and lowly lived on earth our Savior, holy.
And through all his wondrous childhood, he would honor and obey, love and watch the
lowly mother in whose gentle arms he lay.
Christian children all must be mild, obedient, good as he.
For he is our childhood's pattern, day by day, like us he grew.
He was little, weak and helpless, tears and smiles like us he knew, and he feeleth for
our sadness, and he shareeth in our gladness.
And our eyes at last shall see him, through his own redeeming love, for that child so dear
and gentle is our Lord in heaven above, and he leads his children on to the place where
he is gone.
Not in that poor lowly stable, with the oxen standing by, we shall see him, but in heaven
set at God's right hand on high, when like stars his children crowned, all in white
shall wait around.
The story of the shepherd translated from the Spanish.
It was the very noon of night, the stars above the fold, more sure than clock or chiming
bell the hour of midnight told.
When from the heavens there came a voice, and forms were seen to shine, still brightening
as the music rose with light and love divine.
With love divine the song began, their shone a light serene, oh, who hath heard what
I have heard, or seen what I have seen?
O'near could nightingale at dawn salute the rising day, with sweetness like that bird
of song in his immortal lay, O'near were wood notes heard at Eve by banks with poplar
shade, so thrilling as the concert sweet by heavenly harpings made.
For love divine was in each cord and filled each pause between, oh, who hath heard what
I have heard, or seen what I have seen?
I roused me at the piercing strain, but shrunk as from the ray of summer lightning, all
around so bright the splendor lay, for oh, it mastered sight and sense to see that glory
shine, to hear that minstrel in the clouds who sang of love divine.
To see that form with bird-like wings of more than mortal mean, oh, who hath heard what
I have heard, or seen what I have seen?
And once the rapturous trance was passed, that so my sense could bind, I left my sheep
to him who care breathed in the western wind, I left them, for instead of snow I trod
on blade and flower, and I stasolved in starry rays at morning's gracious hour, revealing
where on earth the steps of love divine had been, oh, who hath heard what I have heard,
or seen what I have seen?
I haste to a low-roofed shed, for so the angel bade, and bowed before the lowly rack where
love divine was laid, a newborn babe, like tender lamb, with lion's strength there smiled,
for lion's strength in mortal might was in that newborn child, that love divine in
child-like form had God for ever been, oh, who hath heard what I have heard, or seen
what I have seen?
A Christmas Carol, translated from the Neapolitan.
When Christ was born in Bethlehem, to his night but seemed the noon of day, the star whose
light was pure and bright, shone with unwavering ray, but one bright star, one glorious star,
guided the eastern magi from afar, then peace was spread throughout the land, the lion
fed beside the lamb, and with the kid, to pastors led, the spotted leopard fed in peace,
in peace the calf and bear, the wolf and lamb reposed together there.
As shepherds watched their flocks by night, an angel brighter than the sun appeared in air,
and gently said, fear not, be not afraid, behold, behold beneath your eyes earth has become
a smiling paradise.
Christmas Eve by John Davidson.
In holly hedges starving birds silently more in the setting year upright like silver
plated swords, the flags stand in the frozen mirror.
The mistletoe we still adore upon the twisted Hawthorne grows, in ancient gardens hella
boar puts forth its blushing Christmas rose.
Shriveled and purple, cheek by jowl, the hips and haws hang drearily, rolled in a ball,
the sulky owl creeps far into his hollowed tree.
In Abbey's Ancithedral's dim, the birth of Christ is acted or, the kings of Cologne
worship him, Bathazar, Jasper, Melcure.
The shepherds in the field at night be held an angel glory clad, and shrank away with
sore a fright, be not afraid the angel bad.
I bring good news to King and Clown, to you hear crouching on the sword, for there is
born in David's town, a saviour which is Christ the Lord.
Behold the babe is swathed and laid within a manger, straight there stood beside the
angel all arrayed a heavenly multitude.
Glory to God they sang, and peace, good pleasure among men, the wondrous message of release,
glory to God again.
Hush, hark, the weights, far up the street, a distant ghostly charm unfolds of magic
music wild and sweet, anemones and clericals.
Carol of the Birds by Bass Quircy
Once comes this rush of wings a far, following straight the Noel star, birds from the woods
in wondrous flight, Bethlehem seek this holy night.
Tell us ye birds, why come ye here, into this stable, poor and drear, hastening we seek
the newborn King and all our sweetest music bring.
Hark, how the green finch bears his part, filamel too with tender heart, chants from
her leafy dark retreat, ray me fa soul in accents sweet.
Angels and shepherds, birds of the sky, come where the Son of God doth lie, Christ on
the earth with man doth dwell, join in the shout, Noel, Noel.
The shepherds had an angel by Christina Rosetti.
The shepherds had an angel, the wise men had a star, but what have I, a little child,
to guide me home from far, where glad stars sing together and singing angels are?
Lord Jesus is my guardian, so I can nothing lack, the lambs lie in his bosom a long life's
dangerous track.
The willful lambs that go astray, he, bleeding, brings them back.
Though shepherds, through the lonely nights sat watching by their sheep, until they saw
the heavenly host, who neither tire nor sleep, all singing, glory, glory, infestible they
keep.
Christ watches me, his little lamb, cares for me day and night, that I may be his own
in heaven, so angels clad in white shall sing their glory, glory for my sake in the height.
Lord, bring me near day by day, till I my voice unite, and sing my glory, glory, with
angels clad in white, all glory, glory, give to thee through all the heavenly height.
The least of carols by Sophie Jewett.
Loveliest dawn of gold and rose, steels across undrifted snows.
In brown rustling oak leaves stir squirrel, nut hatch, woodpecker.
Brief their matins, but by noon, all the sunny woods attune.
Jays, forgetting their harsh cries, pipe a spring note clear and true.
Kill on angel wings of blue, trumpeters of paradise.
Then the tiniest feathered thing, all a flutter, tail and wing, gives himself to caroling.
Chica-dee-dee, chica-dee.
Jaysulino, hail to thee.
Loliest baby born today, pillowed on a wisp of hay.
King no less of sky and earth, and singing sea.
Jaysu, Jaysu, most and least, for the sweetness of thy birth, every little bird and beast,
wind and wave and forest tree, praises God exceedingly, exceedingly.
A Christmas Carol by Christina Rosetti.
In the bleak mid-winter, frosty wind made moan.
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak mid-winter long ago.
Our God, heaven cannot hold him nor earth sustain.
Heaven and earth shuffly away when he comes to rain.
In the bleak mid-winter, a stable place sufficed, the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Angels and arc angels may have gathered there, cherubim and seraphim thronged the air,
but only his mother in her maiden bliss worshipped her beloved with a kiss.
What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
If I were a wise man, I would do my part, yet what can I give him, give him my heart?
The shepherd who stayed by Theodosia Garrison, there are imparadise souls neither great nor
wise, yet souls who wear no less the crown of faithfulness.
My master bade me watch the flock by night.
My duty was to stay.
I do not know what things my comrades saw in that great light.
I did not heed the words that bade them go.
I know not were they maddened or afraid.
I only know I stayed.
The hillside seemed on fire.
I felt the sweep of wings above my head.
I ran to see if any danger threatened these my sheep.
What though I found them, folded quietly?
What though my brother wept and plucked my sleeve?
They were not mine to leave.
Thieves in the wood and wolves upon the hill.
My duty was to stay.
Which though it be, I had no thought to hold my mates, nor will to bid them wait and
keep the watch with me.
I had not heard that summons they obeyed.
I only know I stayed.
For chance they will return upon the dawn, with word of Bethlehem and why they went.
I only know that watching here alone, I know a strange content.
I have not failed that trust upon me laid.
I ask no more.
I stayed.
And of twelve poems selected from Christmas in poetry, carols and poems by various authors.
