Christmas poems/ page 4 of 35 /
The Olde, Olde, very Olde Man; or The Age and Long Life of Thomas Parr
© John Taylor
Good wholesome labour was his exercise,
Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise:
In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day,
And to his team he whistled time away:
© John Masefield
Yet when I am dust my penman may not know
Those water-trampling ships which made me glow,
But think my wonder mad and fail to find,
Their glory, even dimly, from my mind,
And yet they made me:
The Doll Upon The Topmost Bough
© Vachel Lindsay
This doll upon the topmost bough,
This playmate-gift, in Christmas dress,
Was taken down and brought to me
One sleety night most comfortless.
A Christmas Eve Choral
© Bliss William Carman
What sound is this across the dark
While all the earth is sleeping? Hark!
Halleluja! Halleluja! Halleluja!
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Before you send me up that card
With rime and diction far from subtle,
Hear what a now rebellious bard
Says in a quasi-pre-rebuttal.
© Eugene Field
Once a lovely shining star,
Seen by shepherds from afar,
Gently moved until its light
Made a manger's cradle bright.
The Courtship Of Young John
© Alice Guerin Crist
But he little knew what a treasure hed won.
What a wonderful life had just begun;
And how bright the sunshine that lay upon
The future pathway of that young John.
The Scout Toward Aldie
© Herman Melville
Nine Blue-coats went a-nutting
Slyly in Tennessee-
Not for chestnuts - better than that-
Hugh, you bumble-bee!
Nutting, nutting -
All through the year there's nutting!
A Christmas Folksong
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
DE win' is blowin' wahmah,
An hit's blowin' f'om de bay;
On A Fortificatio
n At Boston Begun By Women
© Benjamin Tompson
A Grand attempt some Amazonian Dames
Contrive whereby to glorify their names,
The Daisy - On Finding one in Bloom on Christmas-da
© James Montgomery
There is a flower, a little flower
With silver crest and golden eye,
That welcomes every changing hour,
And weathers every sky.
The Irish Emigrants Mother
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
"Oh! come, my mother, come away, across the sea-green water;
Oh! come with me, and come with him, the husband of thy daughter;
Oh! come with us, and come with them, the sister and the brother,
Who, prattling climb thy ag'ed knees, and call thy daughter-mother.
© Sylvia Plath
Since Christmas they have lived with us,
Guileless and clear,
Taking up half the space,
Moving and rubbing on the silk
© Henry Kendall
Phantom streams were in the distance - mocking lights of lake and pool -
Ghosts of trees of soft green lustre - groves of shadows deep and cool!
The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies
© Thomas Hood
'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,and with a broader sphere
The True Christmas
© Henry Vaughan
So stick up ivy and the bays,
And then restore the heathen ways.
Grandpa Vogt’s—1959 by Ben Vogt : American Life in Poetry #247 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Lau
© Ted Kooser
Family photographs, how much they do capture in all their elbow-to-elbow awkwardness. In this poem, Ben Vogt of Nebraska describes a color snapshot of a Christmas dinner, the family, impatient to tuck in, arrayed along the laden table. I especially like the description of the turkey.
The food is on the table. Turkey tanned
The King's Tragedy James I. Of Scots.20th February 1437
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I Catherine am a Douglas born,
A name to all Scots dear;
Marmion: a Christmas Poem
© Sir Walter Scott
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;
Supper at the Mill
© Jean Ingelow
Well, good mother, how are you?
M. I'm hearty, lass, but warm; the weather's warm:
I think 'tis mostly warm on market-days.
I met with George behind the mill: said he,
"Mother, go in and rest a while."