Christmas poems/ page 7 of 35 /
A Christmas Carol For 1862
© George MacDonald
The Year Of The Trouble In Lancashire
Book Twelfth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored ]
© William Wordsworth
What wonder, then, if, to a mind so far
Perverted, even the visible Universe
Fell under the dominion of a taste
Less spiritual, with microscopic view
Was scanned, as I had scanned the moral world?
© Henry Van Dyke
The day returns by which we date our years:
Day of the joy of giving,that means love;
© Edith Nesbit
WITH garlands to grace it, with laughter to greet it,
Christmas is here, holly-red and snow-white,
The Submarine That Sank The "Lusitania"
© Katharine Lee Bates
SPINDRIFT white shall her victims stand
On the ivory quay, untrod
By living feet, when she nears Ghoststrand,
To point her out to God.
The Vision Of The Holy Grail
© Eugene Field
_Deere Chryste, let not the cheere of earth,
To fill our hearts with heedless mirth
This holy Christmasse time;
But give us of thy heavenly cheere
That we may hold thy love most deere
And know thy peace sublime._
© John Frederick Nims
what more can man desire?
The Pen And The Album
© William Makepeace Thackeray
"I am Miss Catherine's book," the album speaks;
"I've lain among your tomes these many weeks;
I'm tired of their old coats and yellow cheeks.
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Then did each lady bid him sing
Of nought save love's sweet happening.
But loud each knight did smiling chide,
Let him but tell of war, they cried.
© John Kenyon
A Goblin Christmas
The windows rattled, the moonbeams tattled
A tale so strange and queer.
They told how at night, in dire affright
The Moon had hid in fear.
A Christmas Carol
© James Russell Lowell
'What means this glory round our feet,'
The Magi mused, 'more bright than morn?'
And voices chanted clear and sweet,
'To-day the Prince of Peace is born!'
From Our Happy Home
© Louisa May Alcott
From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
A Christmas Folk-Song
© Lizette Woodworth Reese
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?
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
FAIR Gratitude! in strain sublime,
Swell high to heav'n thy tuneful zeal;
And, hailing this auspicious time,
Kneel, Adoration! kneel!
When The Drums Shall Cease To Beat
© Edgar Albert Guest
When will the laughter ring again in the way that it used to do?
Not till the soldiers come home again, not till the war is through.
When will the holly gleam again and the Christmas candles burn?
Not till the swords are sheathed once more and the brave of our land return.
Love Came Down at Christmas
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
© Alice Guerin Crist
Under the wintry skies,
Sundered from home and kin,
The Silken Shoe
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE firelight danced and wavered
In elvish, twinkling glee
On the leaves and crimson berries
Of the great green Christmas Tree;
© Rudyard Kipling
To our private taste, there is always something a little exotic,
almost artificial, in songs which, under an English aspect and dress,
are yet so manifestly the product of other skies. They affect us
like translations; the very fauna and flora are alien, remote;