Christmas Poems.

Items of general interest

Moderators: Global Moderators, Pandabean

Post Reply
Currie
Posts: 3898
Joined: Fri Jun 22, 2007 3:20 am
Location: Australia

Christmas Poems.

Post by Currie » Sat Dec 25, 2021 4:23 pm

Aberdeen Journal, Saturday, December 24, 1938

Here is a delightful little poem by fifteen-year-old Rachel Moir Gorrod, who came from Australia in March to live in Aberdeen at 4 St John’s Terrace. It tells all about Christmas in the Australian bush—a very different Christmas from our own.

Wake up, wake up, it is Christmas Day
Whispers the frolicsome breeze;
How glad we are that the day has begun
Answers the leaves in the trees.

The beautiful sun peeping over the hill
Bathed in a glory of gold,
Reflected its colour on all forest trees.
Revealing their beauty untold,

No Christmas carol broke through the still air
On that sunny and glorious day;
Only the chorus sung sweetly and loud—
The Australian birds’ roundelay.

Yet here, as in places so far, far away,
Came the spirit of Christmas again,
And all the world o'er we remember this day
Of peace and goodwill toward men.




Evening Telegraph, Dundee, Wednesday, December 25, 1907

BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS-TIDE.

A Christmas poem must have snow,
Though as a fact the weather’s sleet;
But where's the rhyme with “slush” to go
To make a verse?—so I repeat,
'Tis requisite the snow should beat
Upon the lattice window pane,
A Christmas picture to complete—
There’s nothing picturesque in rain.

There should be robins in a row,
Red-breasted on a twig to tweet,
Yule logs and boughs of mistletoe,
I must forget this London street
Where pass the wet pedestrians fleet,
A drab, depressing, ceaseless train—
Beats out this phrase their ceaseless feet—
There’s nothing picturesque in rain.

Red-cloaked the children ought to go,
No other colour seems to meet
Conventional requirements, so
No other raiment theirs to know;
Crimson should be their garbing neat.
(I hear the paper boy's refrain,
And wailing London cry “Cat’s meat!”)
There’s nothing picturesque in rain.

L’Envoi—

Yet be it drizzle, or be it snow,
Pleasures of Christmas never wane,
While friendship and firesides are warm; although
There’s nothing picturesque in rain.

Edith C. M. Dart, in the Gentlewoman.



Merry Christmas everyone.

Alan

Post Reply