SO, Christmas is here again! -- While the house sleeps, quiet as death, 'Neath the midnight moon comes the Waits' shrill tune, And we listen and hold our breath. The Christmas that never was -- On this foggy November air, With clear pale gleam, like the ghost of a dream, It is painted everywhere. The Christmas that might have been -- It is borne in the far-off sound, Down the empty street, with the tread of feet That lie silent underground. The Christmas that yet may be -- Like the Bethlehem star, leads kind: Yet our life slips past, hour by hour, fast, fast, Few before -- and many behind. The Christmas we have and hold, With a tremulous tender strain, Half joy, half fears -- Be the psalm of the years, "Grief passes, blessings remain!" The Christmas that sure will come, Let us think of, at fireside fair; -- When church bells sound o'er one small green mound, Which the neighbors pass to prayer. The Christmas that God will give, -- Long after all these are o'er, When is day nor night, for the LAMB is our Light, And we live forevermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MAN WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD by MARIANNE MOORE FROM THE GREATER TESTAMENT (XXII, XXIII, AND XXVI) by FRANCOIS VILLON TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL by FRANCIS BRET HARTE UPON THE SAYING THAT MY VERSES WERE MADE BY ANOTHER by ANNE KILLIGREW HIGH FLIGHT by JOHN GILLESPIE MAGEE JR. UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 22. THE CELESTIAL SURGEON by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 40. PANTHEISTIC DREAMS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |