O Christmas hollies! O thrice-blessed morn! Again with thy dear message art thou come, A word of joy to thousands, but to some A fable among fables, 'Christ is born!' Hold off the hour to which our folly leans, When priesthood in his own white robe shall stand Forsworn - amid the faithful evergreens! A thief - a traitor to his own right hand! Once perjured and ordained, what follows next? Whene'er, as preacher, to his flock he speaks, The self-yoked sophist, fretting at his text, Will rub against its meaning - while the weeks And months drag on his hollow Christian year - Woe to faint hearts! we must not falter here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 33 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE MON REPOS (MY MOTHER'S GIRLHOOD HOME) by ALFRED BARRETT LISTENING by KATHARINE LEE BATES DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: L'ENVOI by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES COMPLAINS OF THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE; AN IDYLLIUM by BION A STAR-GAZER GOES HIGHER by MAZIE V. CARUTHERS |