As we sink deeper into the mystery of the Christmas octave each day, I’m finally sending off the last Christmas cards!…which has inspired me to share an old Christmas poem with you this holiday. A few years ago, while rummaging through old memorabilia, I discovered that I was not the first one in my family to compose a yearly poem to enclose with our Christmas greeting; my great-grandfather, a published poet and successful businessman, began this tradition! Here is one of the poems he created for his friends and family over a hundred years ago. Somehow, while being a resident of posh Philadelphia, he managed to capture the glow that wraps around my memories of sitting by the fire on Christmas night, surrounded by snowy farmland and loving parents and grandparents.
Winter without and the snow shouldered high;
Stars in profusion in an indigo sky;
Winds prowling hungrily, voicing their need;
Moans from the barn where the sheltered cows feed;
A jingling of bells and the challenging bark
Of the dog as a sleigh races by in the dark.
An old-fashioned hearth in a rambling, big room;
Logs crackling merrily, laughing at gloom;
Twin bayberry candles on the mantel; near by
Some earthenware dishes – a lantern hung high;
A kettle and pot in a savory fog,
Discussing the dinner in soft dialogue.
A clock on the wall with its steady tick-tock;
A big branch of holly sprawling out of a crack;
Some chairs and a table, all sturdy but cheap,
And irons, tongs and split logs in a heap;
A stretch of rag rug, too sparse for the floor;
An indolent cat curled the fire before.
In the background, a cradle swaying rhythmically;
The blab of a baby, his feet kicking free;
A woman still knitting despite the dim light,
Her foot on the rocker, her eyes smiling bright;
A middle-aged man standing watching the twain,
And Bethlehem somehow seems present again.
I pray you have a very merry Christmas season, and a blessed new year!
