On Christmas day I sit and think, Thoughts white as snow, and black as ink. My nearest kinsman, turned a knave, Robbed me of all that I could save. When he was gone, and I was poor, His sister yelped me from her door. The Robin sings his Christmas song, And no bird has a sweeter tongue. God bless them all -- my wife so true, And pretty Robin Redbreast too. God bless my kinsman, far away, And give his sister joy this day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOGGIN' ERLONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AT LULWORTH COVE A CENTURY BACK by THOMAS HARDY IF I GROW OLD by ETHEL BERRY ALLEN DESCRIPTIONS by VIRGINIA A. ALLIN EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 30. THE HUNTER CAUGHT BY HIS OWN GAMER by PHILIP AYRES THE BRONZE STATUE OF NAPOLEON by AUGUSTE BARBIER CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 7. OF HOSPITALITY by WILLIAM BASSE OLD SARUM; LINES ON THE CONFERENCE OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH AT SALISBURY by ALICE COLBURN BEAL |