Speaker 1: Twelve Christmas poems selected from Christmas in Poetry, carols and
poems by various authors. From Far Away by William Morris.
From Far Away, we come to you the snow in
the street and the wind on the door, to tell
of great tidings strange and true. Minstrels and maids stand
forth on the floor. From far away, We come to
you to tell of great tidings strange and true. For
as we wandered far and wide, the snow in the
street and the wind on the door, What hap do
you deem there should us be tied? Minstrels and maids
stand forth on the floor under a bent, when the
night was deep, the snow in the streets, and the
wind on the door. There lay three shepherds tending their sheep.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor. O ye, shepherds,
what have ye seen? The snow in the street and
the wind on the door. To stay her sorrow and
heal your teen minstrels and maids stand forth on the
floor in an ox stall. This night we saw the
snow in the street and the wind on the door.
A babe and a maid without a flaw Minstrels and
maids stand forth on the floor. There was an old
man there beside the snow in the street and the
wind on the door. His hair was white, and his
hood was wide. Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor.
And as we gazed this thing upon the snow in
the street and the wind on the door, those twain
nailt down to the little one. Minstrels and maids stand
forth on the floor, and a marvelous song we straight
did hear the snow in the street and the wind
on the door. That slew our sorrow and healed our care.
Minstrels and maids stand forth on the floor, news of
a fair and marvelous thing, the snow in the street
and the wind on the door. Know well, no, well,
know well, we sing. Minstrels and maids stand forth on
the floor. From far away we come to you to
tell of great tidings. Strange and true Carol by Kenneth Graham,
From the wind in the willows, Villagers, all this frosty tide,
Let your doors swing open wide. The wind may follow
and snow beside. Yet draw us in by your fire
to bide joy shall be yours in the morning. Here
we stand in the cold and sleet, blowing fingers and
stamping feet, come from far away you to greet you
by the fire, and we in the street bidding you
joy in the morning. For ere one half of the
night was gone. Sudden a star has led us on
raining bliss and benison Bliss tomorrow and more Anon Joy
for every morning goodman Joseph toiled through the snow, saw
the star or a stable low Mary, she might not
further go. Welcome thatch and litter below. Joy was hers
in the morning. And then they heard the angels tell
who were the first to cry? Know well animals, all
as it befell in the stable where they did dwell.
Joy shall be theirs in the morning. Signs of Christmas
by Edwin Lee's. When on the barns thatched roof is
seen the moss in tufts of liveliest green, When Roger
to the wood pile goes, and as he turns his
fingers blows, when all around is cold and drear, be
sure that Christmas tide is near. When up the garden
walk in vain we seek for Flora's lovely train. When
the sweet hawthorn bower is bare and bleak, and cheerless
is the air. When all seems desolate around, Christmas advances
o'er the ground, when tom at Eve comes home from
plow and brings the mistletoes green bough with milk, white berries,
spotted oar, and shakes it the sly maids, before then
hangs the trophy up on high. Be sure that Christmas
tide is nigh. When hal the woodman, in his clogs,
bears home the huge, unwieldy logs that, hissing on the
smoldering fire flame out at last a quivering spire. When
in his hat the holly stands, Old Christmas musters up
his bends. When clustered round the fire at night, Old
William talks of ghost and sprite, and as a distant
outhouse gate slams by the wind. They fearful wait while
some each shadowy nook explore. Then Christmas pauses at the
door when Dick comes shivering from the yard and says,
the pond is frozen hard, while from his hat all
white with snow, the moisture trickling drops below, while Carol's
sound the night to cheer. Then Christmas and his train
are here a Christmas hymn by C. Francis Alexander. Once
in Royal David's city stood a lowly cattle shed, where
a mother laid her baby in a manger for his bed.
Mary was that mother, mild Jesus Christ her little child.
He came down from earth to Heaven, who is God
and Lord of all, and his shelter was a stable,
and his cradle was a stall with the poor and
mean and lowly lived on earth, our Savior Holy. And
through all his wondrous childhood he would honor and obey love,
and watch the lowly mother in whose gentle arms he
lay Christian children. All must be mild, obedient, good as he,
for he is our childhood's pattern. Day by day like
us he grew, He was little, weak and helpless, tears
and smiles. Like us. He knew, and he feeleth for
our sadness, and he shareth in our gladness. And our
eyes at last shall see him through his own redeeming
love for that child, So dear and gentle is our
Lord in heaven above, And he leads his children on
to the place where he is gone, not in that poor,
loly stable, with the oxen standing by, we shall see him,
but in heaven, set at God's right hand on high,
when like stars his children crowned all in white shall
wait around the Story of the Shepherd translated from the Spanish.
It was the very noon of night, the stars above
the fold, more sure than clock or chiming bell. The
hour of midnight told when from the heavens there came
a voice, and forms were seen to shine, still brightening
as the music rose with light and love divine, With
love divine, the song began. There shone a light serene,
Oh who hath heard what I have heard? Or seen
what I have seen? Onere could nightingale at dawn salute
the rising day with sweetness like that bird of song
in his immortal lay. Onere were wood notes heard at
eve by banks, with poplar shade, so thrilling as the
concert sweet by heaven. Harpings made for love divine was
in each cord and filled each pause between. Oh who
hath heard what I have heard? Or seen what I
have seen? I roused me at the piercing strain, but
shrunk as from the ray of summer, lightning all around,
so bright the splendor lay for Oh, it mastered sight
and sense, to see that glory shine, to hear that
minstrel in the clouds who sang of Love divine, to
see that form with birdlike wings of more than mortal mean.
Oh who hath heard what I have heard? Or seen
what I have seen? When once the rapturous trance was
past that so my scentense could bind. I left my
sheep to him who care breathed in the western wind.
I left them for instead of snow, I trode on
blade and flower and ice dissolved in star rays at
morning's gracious hour, revealing where on earth the steps of
Love Divine had been. Oh who hath heard what I
have heard? Or seen what I have seen? I haste
to a low roofed shed, For so the angel bayed
and bowed before the lowly rack, where Love Divine was
laid a new born babe like tender lamb with Lion's strength.
There smiled, For Lion's strength immortal might was in that
new born child. That Love Divine in childlike form had
God forever been. Oh who hath heard what I have heard?
Or seen what I have seen? A Christmas carol translated
from the Neapolitan When Christ was born in Bethlehem. Twas night,
but seemed the noon of Dedath. The star, whose light
was pure and bright, shone with unwavering ray. But one
bright star, one glorious star, guided the eastern Magi from Afar.
Then peace was spread throughout the land. The lion fed
beside the lamb, and with the kid to pastures led
the spotted leopard fed in peace. In peace, the calf
and bear, the wolf and lamb reposed together. There as
shepherds watched their flocks by night. An angel brighter than
the sun appeared in air and gently said, fear not,
be not afraid. Behold, behold beneath your eyes, Earth has
become a smiling paradise. Christmas Eve by John Davidson. In
hall hedges, starving birds silently more in the setting year upright,
like silver plated swords. The flags stand in the frozen mirror.
The mistletoe we still adore upon. The twisted hawthorn grows
in ancient gardens. Hellebor puts forth its blushing Christmas rose,
shriveled and purple. Cheek by jowl, the hips and haws
hang drearily rolled in a ball. The sulky owl creeps
far into his hollowed tree. In abbey's and cathedral's dim
the birth of Christ is acted, or the kings of
Cologne worship him Bathazar Jasper Melchior. The shepherds in the
field at night beheld an angel glory clad and shrank
away with sore affright. Be not afraid the angel bad
I bring good news to king, and clown to you.
Hear crouching on the sword. For there is born in
David's town a savior, which is Christ, the Lord. Behold
the babe is swathed and laid within a manger. Straight
There stood beside the angel, all arrayed a heavenly multitude.
Glory to God. They sang, and peace, good pleasure among men,
the wondrous message of release, glory to God again. Hush,
hark the waits far up the street, a distant, ghostly charm,
unfolds of magic music, wild and sweet anemones and Clarigold's
Carol of the Birds by bass Quercy. Whence comes this
rush of wings afar, following straight the know al star
birds from the woods in wondrous flight. Bethelehem, seek this
holy night, tell us see birds, Why come ye here
into this stable, poor and drear hastening, we seek the
new born King, and all our sweetest music bring hark.
How the green finch bears his part. Philomel too with
tender heart. Chance from her leafy dark retreat ray me
fas soul in accents. Sweet angels and shepherds, birds of
the sky come, where the son of God doth lie
Christ on the earth, with man doth dwell join in
the shout, Know well, know well. The shepherds had an angel.
By Christina Rosetti, the shepherds had an angel. The wise
men had a star. But what have I a little
child to guide me home from far where glad stars
sing together and singing angels are. Lord Jesus is my guardian,
so I can nothing lack. The lambs lie in his bosom,
a long life's dangerous track, the wilful lambs that go astray.
He bleeding brings them back. Those shepherds through the lonely night,
sat watching by their sheep, until they saw the heavenly host,
who neither tire nor sleep, all singing glory, glory in
festival they keep. Christ watches me. His little lamb cares
for me day and night, that I may be his
own in heaven, So angels clad in white shall sing
their glory glory for my sake in the height. Lord,
bring me near day by day till I my voice
you know, and sing my glory glory with angels clad
in white, all glory, glory, gin to thee through all
the heavenly height. The least of Carols by Sophie Jewett,
loveliest dawn of gold and rose. Steals across undrifted snows
in brown, rustling oak leaves, stir squirrel, nuthatch, woodpecker breathe
their mattins. But by noon all the sunny woods attune
jays forgetting their harsh cries. Pipe a spring note, clear
and true, wheel on angel wings of blue trumpeters of paradise.
Then the tiniest feathered thing, all a flutter tail and wing,
gives himself to caroling. Chickadee, Dee, chickadee. Jesu Lee, Hail
to thee. Lowliest baby born to day, pillowed on a
wisp of hay, king no less of sky and earth,
and singing sea, Jesu, Jesu most and least for the
sweetness of thy birth. Every little bird and beast, wind
and wave and forest tree, praises God exceedingly exceedingly, a
Christmas carol by Christina Rosetti. In the bleak midwinter, frosty
wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, water like
a stone. Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on
snow in the bleak midwinter long ago, our God, Heaven
cannot hold him, nor earth sustain Heaven and Earth shall
flee away when he comes to reign. In the bleak midwinter,
a stable place sufficed the Lord God, Almighty Jesus, Christ,
Angels and archangels may have gathered there. Cherubim and Seraphim
thronged the air, But only his mother, in her maiden bliss,
worshiped her beloved with a kiss. What can I give him?
Poor as I am. If I were a shepherd, I
would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man,
I would do my part. Yet what can I give him?
Give him my heart? The shepherd who stayed by Theodosia garrison.
There are in Paradise souls neither great nor wise, yet
souls who wear no less the crown of faithfulness. My
master bade me watch the flock by night. My duty
was to stay. I do not know what things my
comrades saw in that great light. I did not heed
the words that bade them go. I know not were
they maddened or frayed. I only know I stayed. The
hillside seemed on fire. I felt the sweep of wings
above my head. I ran to see if any danger
threatened these my sheep. What though I found them folded quietly,
What though my brother wept and plucked my sleeve. They
were not mine to leave thieves in the wood and
wolves upon the hill. My duty was to stay. Strange
though it be, I had no thought to hold my mates,
nor will to bid them wait and keep the watch
with me. I had not heard that summons they obeyed.
I only know I stayed. Perchance they will return upon
the dawn with word of Bethlehem. And why they went,
I only know that, watching here alone, I know a
strange content. I have not failed that trust upon me laid.
I ask no more. I stayed. And of twelve poems
selected from Christmas in Poetry, carols and poems by various authors,