Christmas in Poetry
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A CHRISTMAS CAROL
God bless the master of this house,The mistress also,And all the little children,That round the table go.And all your kin and folk,That dwell both far and near;I wish you a merry Christmas,And a happy New Year.Old English CarolFROM FAR AWAY
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 hap do you deem there should us betide?Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.Under a bent when the night was deep,The snow in the street, 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.“In 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 knelt down to the little one.Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.“And a marvellous 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.News of a fair and marvellous thing,The snow in the street, and the wind on the door,Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, 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.William MorrisLORDINGS, LISTEN TO OUR LAY
Lordings, listen to our lay —We have come from far awayTo seek Christmas;In this mansion we are toldHe His yearly feast doth hold:’Tis to-day!May joy come from God above,To all those who Christmas love.Old Carol’TWAS JOLLY, JOLLY WAT
’Twas jolly, jolly Wat, my foy,He was a goodman’s shepherd boy,And he sat by his sheepOn the hill-side so steep,And piped this song,Ut hoy! Ut hoy!O merry, merry sing for joy,Ut hoy!A’down from Heav’n that is so highThere came an angel companye,And on Bethlehem hillThro’ the night-tide so stillTheir song out-rang:On high, On high,O glory be to God on high,On high!Now must Wat go where Christ is born,Yea, go and come again to-morn.And my pipe it shall play,All my heart it doth sayTo Shepherd King:Ut hoy! Ut hoy!O merry, merry sing for joy,Ut hoy!O peace on earth, good will to men,The angels sang again, again,For to you was He bornOn this Christmas morn,So sing we all:On high, On high,O glory be to God on high,On high!Jesu my King, it’s naught for Thee,A bob of cherries, one, two, three,But my tar-box and ball,And my pipe, I give allTo Thee, my King.Ut hoy! Ut hoy!O merry, merry sing for joy,Ut hoy!Farewell, herd-boy, saith Mary mild.Thanks, jolly Wat, smiled Mary’s child,For fit gift for a kingIs your heart in the thing.So pipe you well,For joy, for joy!O merry, merry sing for joy,Ut hoy!C. W. StubbsBOOTS AND SADDLES
Our shepherds allAs pilgrims have departed,Our shepherds allHave gone to Bethlehem.They gladly goFor they are all stout-hearted,They gladly go —Ah, could I go with them!I am too lame to walk,Boots and saddles, boots and saddles,I am too lame to walk,Boots and saddles, mount and ride.A shepherd stoutWho sang a catamiaulo,A shepherd stoutWas walking lazily.He heard me speakAnd saw me hobbling after,He turned and saidHe would give help to me.“Here is my horseThat flies along the high-road,Here is my horse,The best in all the towns.I bought him fromA soldier in the army,I got my horseBy payment of five crowns.”When I have seenThe Child, the King of Heaven,When I have seenThe Child who is God’s son,When to the mother,I my praise have given,When I have finished,All I should have done:No more shall I be lame,Boots and saddles, boots and saddles,No more shall I be lame,Boots and saddles, mount and ride.Provençal Noël of Nicholas SabolyIncluded by permission of The H. W. Gray Company.
CAROL
Villagers all, this frosty tide,Let your doors swing open wide,Though wind may follow, and snow beside,Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;Joy shall be yours in the morning!Here we stand in the cold and the 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 ere one half of the night was gone,Sudden a star has led us on,Raining bliss and benison —Bliss to-morrow and more anon,Joy for every morning!Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow —Saw the star o’er a stable low;Mary she might not further go —Welcome thatch, and litter below!Joy was hers in the morning!And then they heard the angels tell“Who were the first to cry NOWELL?Animals all, as it befell,In the stable where they did dwell!Joy shall be theirs in the morning!”Kenneth GrahameFrom “The Wind in the Willows”;
Copyright, 1908, by Charles Scribner’s Sons.
Included by permission of the publishers.
THE NEIGHBORS OF BETHLEHEM
Good neighbor, tell me why that sound,That noisy tumult rising round,Awaking all in slumber lying?Truly disturbing are these cries,All through the quiet village flying,O come ye shepherds, wake, arise!What, neighbor, then do ye not knowGod hath appeared on earth belowAnd now is born in manger lowly!In humble guise he came this night,Simple and meek, this infant holy,Yet how divine in beauty bright.Good neighbor, I must make amend,Forthwith to bring Him will I send,And Joseph with the gentle Mother.When to my home these three I bring,Then will it far outshine all other,A palace fair for greatest king!Thirteenth Century French CarolIncluded by permission of The H. W. Gray Company.
CAROL OF THE RUSSIAN CHILDREN
Snow-bound mountains, snow-bound valleys,Snow-bound plateaus, clad in white,Fur-robed moujiks, fur-robed nobles,Fur-robed children, see the light.Shaggy pony, shaggy oxen,Gentle shepherds wait the light;Little Jesus, little Mother,Good St. Joseph, come this night.Russian Folk SongIncluded by permission of The H. W. Gray Company.
SIGNS OF CHRISTMAS
When on the barn’s thatch’d roof is seenThe moss in tufts of liveliest green;When Roger to the wood pile 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 vainWe seek for Flora’s lovely train;When the sweet hawthorn bower is bare,And bleak and cheerless is the air;When all seems desolate around,Christmas advances o’er the ground.When Tom at eve comes home from plough,And brings the mistletoe’s green bough,With milk-white berries spotted o’er,And shakes it the sly maids before,Then hangs the trophy up on high,Be sure that Christmas-tide is nigh.When Hal, the woodman, in his clogs,Bears home the huge unwieldy logs,That, hissing on the smouldering fire,Flame out at last a quiv’ring spire;When in his hat the holly stands,Old Christmas musters up his bands.When cluster’d round the fire at night,Old William talks of ghost and sprite,And, as a distant out-house gateSlams by the wind, they fearful wait,While some each shadowy nook explore,Then Christmas pauses at the door.When Dick comes shiv’ring from the yard,And says the pond is frozen hard,While from his hat, all white with snow,The moisture, trickling, drops below,While carols sound, the night to cheer,Then Christmas and his train are here.Edwin LeesA CHRISTMAS HYMN
Once in royal David’s cityStood a lowly cattle-shedWhere a mother laid her Baby,In a manger for His bed.Mary was that mother mild,Jesus Christ her little Child.He came down to earth from 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 lowlyLived on earth our Saviour holy.And through all His wondrous childhood,He would honour and obey.Love and watch the lowly motherIn whose gentle arms He lay.Christian children, all must beMild, 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 shareth in our gladness.And our eyes at last shall see Him,Through His own redeeming love,For that Child so dear and gentleIs our Lord in Heaven above;And He leads His children onTo 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.C. Frances AlexanderCHRISTMAS
While shepherds watch’d their flocks by night,All seated on the ground,The angel of the Lord came down,And glory shone around.“Fear not,” said he (for mighty dreadHad seized their troubled mind);“Glad tidings of great joy I bringTo you and all mankind.“To you, in David’s town, this dayIs born of David’s lineThe Saviour who is Christ the Lord;And this shall be the sign:“The heavenly Babe you there shall findTo human view display’d,All meanly wrapt in swathing bands,And in a manger laid.”Thus spake the Seraph; and forthwithAppear’d a shining throngOf angels, praising God, and thusAddress’d their joyful song:“All glory be to God on high,And to the earth be peace;Good-will henceforth from heaven to menBegin, and never cease!”Nahum TateTHE STORY OF THE SHEPHERD
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 heav’ns there came a voice, and forms were seen to shineStill bright’ning as the music rose with light and love divine.With love divine, the song began; there shone a light serene:O, who hath heard what I have heard, or seen what I have seen?O ne’er could nightingale at dawn salute the rising dayWith sweetness like that bird of song in his immortal lay:O ne’er were woodnotes heard at eve by banks with poplar shadeSo thrilling as the concert sweet by heav’nly harpings made;For love divine was in each chord, and filled each pause between:O, 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 rayOf summer lightning: all around so bright the splendour 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 mien:O, who hath heard what I have heard, or seen what I have seen?When once the rapturous trance was past, that so my sense could bind,I left my sheep to Him whose care breathed in the western wind:I left them, for instead of snow, I trod on blade and flower,And ice dissolved in starry rays at morning’s gracious hour,Revealing where on earth the steps of Love Divine had been:O, who hath heard what I have heard, or seen what I have seen?I hasted to a low-roofed shed, for so the Angel bade;And bowed before the lowly rack where Love Divine was laid:A new-born Babe, like tender Lamb, with Lion’s strength there smiled;For Lion’s strength immortal might, was in that new-born Child;That Love Divine in child-like form had God for ever been:O, who hath heard what I have heard, or seen what I have seen?Translated from the SpanishA CHRISTMAS CAROL
When Christ was born in Bethlehem,’Twas night but seemed the noon of day:The star whose lightWas pure and bright,Shone with unwav’ring ray;But one bright star,One glorious starGuided the Eastern Magi from afar.Then peace was spread throughout the land;The lion fed beside the lamb;And with the kid,To pastures led,The spotted leopard fedIn peace, in peaceThe calf and bear,The wolf and lamb reposed together there.As shepherds watched their flocks by night,An angel brighter than the sunAppeared in air,And gently said,“Fear not, be not afraid,Behold, behold,Beneath your eyes,Earth has become a smiling Paradise.”Translated from the NeapolitanTHE GOLDEN CAROL
(Of Melchior, Balthazar, and Caspar, the Three Kings)We saw the light shine out a-far,On Christmas in the morning.And straight we knew Christ’s Star it was,Bright beaming in the morning.Then did we fall on bended knee,On Christmas in the morning,And prais’d the Lord, who’d let us seeHis glory at its dawning.Oh! every thought be of His Name,On Christmas in the morning,Who bore for us both grief and shame,Afflictions sharpest scorning.And may we die (when death shall come),On Christmas in the morning,And see in heav’n, our glorious home,The Star of Christmas morning.Old CarolCHRISTMAS EVE
In holly hedges starving birdsSilently mourn the setting year;Upright like silver-plated swordsThe flags stand in the frozen mere.The mistletoe we still adoreUpon the twisted hawthorn grows:In antique gardens helleborePuts forth its blushing Christmas rose.Shrivell’d and purple, cheek by jowl,The hips and haws hang drearily;Roll’d in a ball the sulky owlCreeps far into his hollow tree.In abbeys and cathedrals dimThe birth of Christ is acted o’er;The kings of Cologne worship him,Balthazar, Jasper, Melchior.The shepherds in the field at nightBeheld an angel glory-clad.And shrank away with sore afright.“Be not afraid,” the angel bade.“I bring good news to king and clown,To you here crouching on the sward;For there is born in David’s townA Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.“Behold the babe is swathed, and laidWithin a manger.” Straight there stoodBeside the angel all arrayedA 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 waits, far up the street!A distant, ghostly charm unfolds,Of magic music wild and sweet,Anemones and clarigolds.John DavidsonFrom “Fleet Street Eclogues.” Included by permission of Dodd, Mead and Company.
CAROL OF THE BIRDS
Whence comes this rush of wings afar.Following straight the Noël 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?”“Hast’ning we seek the new-born King,And all our sweetest music bring.”Hark how the green-finch bears his part,Philomel, too, with tender heart,Chants from her leafy dark retreatRe, mi, fa, sol, 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, Noël, Noël.Bas-QuercyTHE SHEPHERDS HAD AN ANGEL
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 bosomAlong life’s dangerous track:The wilful lambs that go astrayHe, bleeding, brings them back.Those shepherds thro’ the lonely nightSat watching by their sheep,Until they saw the heav’nly hostWho neither tire nor sleep,All singing Glory, glory,In festival they keep.Christ watches me, His little lamb,Cares for me day and night,That I may be His own in heav’n;So angels clad in whiteShall sing their Glory, glory,For my sake in the height.Lord, bring me nearer day by day,Till I my voice unite,And sing my Glory, glory,With angels clad in white.All Glory, glory, giv’n to Thee,Thro’ all the heav’nly height.Christina G. RossettiSONG OF A SHEPHERD BOY AT BETHLEHEM
Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,Rest Thee now.Though these hands be rough from shearingAnd the plow,Yet they shall not ever fail Thee,When the waiting nations hail Thee,Bringing palms unto their King.Now – I sing.Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,Hope divine.If Thou wilt but smile upon me,I will twineBlossoms for Thy garlanding.Thou’rt so little to be King,God’s Desire!Not a brierShall be left to grieve Thy brow;Rest Thee now.Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,Some fair dayWilt Thou, as Thou wert a brother,Come awayOver hills and over hollow?All the lambs will up and follow.Follow but for love of Thee.Lov’st Thou me?Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary,Rest Thee now.I that watch am come from sheep-steadAnd from plough.Thou wilt have disdain of meWhen Thou’rt lifted, royally,Very high for all to see:Smilest Thou?Josephine Preston PeabodyIncluded by permission of the author.
THE LEAST OF CAROLS
Loveliest dawn of gold and roseSteals across undrifted snows;In brown, rustling oak leaves stirSquirrel, nuthatch, woodpecker;Brief their matins, but, by noon,All the sunny wood’s a-tune:Jays, forgetting their harsh cries,Pipe a spring note, clear and true;Wheel on angel wings of blue,Trumpeters of Paradise;Then the tiniest feathered thing,All a-flutter, tail and wing,Gives himself to caroling:“Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee!Jesulino, hail to thee!Lowliest baby born to-day,Pillowed on a wisp of hay;King no less of sky and earth,And singing sea;Jesu! Jesu! most and least!For the sweetness of thy birthEvery little bird and beast,Wind and wave and forest tree,Praises God exceedingly,Exceedingly.”Sophie JewettFrom “The Poems of Sophie Jewett.” Included by permission of the Thomas Y. Crowell Company.
NATIVITY SONG
The beautiful mother is bendingLow where her baby lies,Helpless and frail, for her tending;But she knows the glorious eyes.The mother smiles and rejoicesWhile the baby laughs in the hay;She listens to heavenly voices:“The child shall be king, one day.”O dear little Christ in the manger,Let me make merry with thee.O King, in my hour of danger,Wilt thou be strong for me?Adapted from the Latin of Jacopone da Todi by Sophie JewettFrom “The Poems of Sophie Jewett.” Included by permission of the Thomas Y. Crowell Company.
THE CHRISTMAS SILENCE
Hushed are the pigeons cooing low,On dusty rafters of the loft;And mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft,Sleep on the fragrant hay below.Dim shadows in the corner hide;The glimmering lantern’s rays are shedWhere one young lamb just lifts his head,Then huddles ’gainst his mother’s side.Strange silence tingles in the air;Through the half-open door a barOf light from one low hanging starTouches a baby’s radiant hair —No sound – the mother, kneeling, laysHer cheek against the little face.Oh human love! Oh heavenly grace!’Tis yet in silence that she prays!Ages of silence end to-night;Then to the long-expectant earthGlad angels come to greet His birthIn burst of music, love, and light!Margaret DelandIncluded by permission of the author.
BRING A TORCH, JEANETTE, ISABELLA!
Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella!Bring a torch, to the cradle run!It is Jesus, good folk of the village;Christ is born, and Mary’s calling;Ah! Ah! beautiful is the mother;Ah! Ah! beautiful is her son.It is wrong when the Child is sleeping,It is wrong to talk so loud;Silence, all, as you gather around,Lest your noise should waken Jesus:Hush! Hush! see how fast He slumbers;Hush! Hush! see how fast He sleeps.Who goes there a-knocking so loudly?Who goes there a-knocking like that?Ope your doors, I have here on a plateSome very good cakes which I am bringing:Toc! Toc! quickly your doors now open;Toc! Toc! come let us make good cheer.Softly to the little stable,Softly for a moment come;Look and see how charming is Jesus,How He is white, His cheeks are rosy.Hush! Hush! see how the Child is sleeping;Hush! Hush! see how He smiles in dreams.Provençal Noël of Nicholas SabolyCHRISTMAS FOLKSONG
The little Jesus came to town;The wind blew up, the wind blew down;Out in the street the wind was bold.Now who would house Him from the cold?Then opened wide a stable doorFain were the rushes on the floor;The Ox put forth a horned head:“Come, little Lord, here make Thy bed.”Uprose the Sheep were folded near:“Thou Lamb of God, come, enter here.”He entered there to rush and reed,Who was the Lamb of God indeed.The little Jesus came to town;With ox and sheep He laid Him down.Peace to the byre, peace to the fold,For that they housed Him from the cold.Lisette Woodworth ReeseIncluded by permission of Thomas B. Mosher.
AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING
As Joseph was a-walkingHe heard an angel sing: —“This night there shall be bornOur heavenly King.“He neither shall be bornIn housen, nor in hall,Nor in the place of Paradise,But in an ox’s stall.“He neither shall be clothédIn purple nor in pall;But in the fair, white linen,That usen babies all.“He neither shall be rockédIn silver nor in gold,But in a wooden cradleThat rocks on the mould.“He neither shall be christenedIn white wine nor in red,But with fair spring waterWith which we were christenéd.”Mary took her baby,She dressed Him so sweet,She laid Him in a manger,All there for to sleep.As she stood over HimShe heard angels sing,“O bless our dear Saviour,Our heavenly King.”From the Cherry Tree CarolCRADLE HYMN
Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay —The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,But little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes.I love thee, Lord Jesus! Look down from the sky,And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.Martin LutherA CHRISTMAS CAROL
In the bleak mid-winterFrosty 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-winterLong ago.Our God, Heaven cannot hold HimNor earth sustain;Heaven and earth shall flee awayWhen He comes to reign.In the bleak mid-winterA stable-place sufficedThe Lord God AlmightyJesus Christ.Angels and archangelsMay have gathered there,Cherubim and seraphimThronged the air;But only His MotherIn her maiden blissWorshipped her BelovedWith a kiss.What can I give Him,Poor as I am?If I were a shepherdI would bring a lamb,If I were a Wise Man,I would do my part, —Yet what I can I give Him,Give my heart.Christina G. RossettiCAROL
When the herds were watchingIn the midnight chill,Came a spotless lambkinFrom the heavenly hill.Snow was on the mountains,And the wind was cold,When from God’s own gardenDropped a rose of gold.When ’twas bitter winter,Houseless and forlornIn a star-lit stableChrist the Babe was born.Welcome, heavenly lambkin;Welcome, golden rose;Alleluia, Baby,In the swaddling clothes!William CantonA CHILD’S PRESENT TO HIS CHILD-SAVIOUR
Go, pretty child, and bear this flowerUnto thy little Saviour;And tell Him, by that bud now blown,He is the Rose of Sharon known.When thou hast said so, stick it thereUpon His bib, or stomacher;And tell Him, for good handsel1 too,That thou hast brought a whistle new,Made of a clean straight oaten reed,To charm his cries at time of need.Tell Him, for coral thou hast none,But if thou hadst, He should have one;But poor thou art, and known to beEven as moneyless as He.Lastly, if thou canst win a kissFrom those mellifluous lips of His,Then never take a second on,To spoil the first impression.Robert HerrickA CHRISTMAS CAROL
There’s a song in the air!There’s a star in the sky!There’s a mother’s deep prayerAnd a baby’s low cry!And the star rains its fire while the Beautiful sing,For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.There’s a tumult of joyO’er the wonderful birth,For the virgin’s sweet boyIs the Lord of the earth,Ay! the star rains its fire and the Beautiful sing,For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.In the light of that starLie the ages impearled;And that song from afarHas swept over the world.Every hearth is aflame, and the Beautiful singIn the homes of the nations that Jesus is King.We rejoice in the light,And we echo the songThat comes down through the nightFrom the heavenly throng.Ay! we shout to the lovely evangel they bring,And we greet in His cradle our Saviour and King.Josiah Gilbert Holland