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Act like them, you won’t make it
Appreciate their era, for who you are today
Griddles’ threaten your health, forgiveness heals
10 million budget function is nothing, for they are not alive
Jest ‘fore Christmas
Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!
Mighty glad I ain't a girl-ruther be a boy,
Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy!
THIS is Christ's birthday: long ago
He lay upon His Mother's knee,
Who kissed and blessed Him soft and low--
God's gift to her, as you to me.
(A Christmas Circular Letter)
The city had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
The Star Splitter
‘You know Orion always comes up sideways.
Throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains,
And rising on his hands, he looks in on me
Busy outdoors by lantern-light with something
Michael: A Pastoral Poem
If from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
O wild night of the soul
I clean my lungs with cigarettes
See through a view between the buildings
S. K. Kelen
Flat as a drum-head stretch the haggard snows;
The mighty skies are palisades of light;
The Ballad Of The Leather Medal
Only a Leather Medal, hanging there on the wall,
Dingy and frayed and faded, dusty and worn and old;
Yet of my humble treasures I value it most of all,
And I wouldn't part with that medal if you gave me its weight in gold.
The Christmas Tree
In the dark and damp of the alley cold,
Lay the Christmas tree that hadn't been sold;
By a shopman dourly thrown outside;
With the ruck and rubble of Christmas-tide;
‘Ave you seen Bill's mug in the Noos to-day?
‘E's gyned the Victoriar Cross, they say;
Little Bill wot would grizzle and run away,
If you ‘it ‘im a swipe on the jawr.
The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
Said Will: “I'll stay and till the land.”
Said Jack: “I'll sail the sea.”
So one went forth kit-bag in hand,
The other ploughed the lea.
My Father Christmas passed away
When I was barely seven.
At twenty-one, alack-a-day,
I lost my hope of heaven.
The Twins Of Lucky Strike
I've sung of Violet de Vere, that slinky, minky dame,
Of Gertie of the Diamond Tooth, and Touch-the-Button Nell,
And Maye Lamore,-at eighty-four I oughta blush wi' shame
That in my wild and wooly youth I knew them ladies well.
“Tell Annie I'll be home in time
To help her with her Christmas-tree.”
That's what he wrote, and hark! the chime
Of Christmas bells, and where is he?
My folks think I'm a serving maid
Each time I visit home;
They do not dream I ply a trade
As old as Greece or Rome;
I stood before a candy shop
Which with a Christmas radiance shone;
I saw my parents pass and stop
To grin at me and then go on.
The Winter’s Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires the ring them
In steeples far and near,
A. E. Housman
The kings they came from out the south,
All dressed in ermine fine,
They bore Him gold and chrysoprase,
And gifts of precious wine.
The Cremona Violin: Part 05
It was no easy matter to convince
Heinrich that it was finished. Hard to say
That though they could not meet (he saw her wince)
She still must keep the locket to allay
To Elizabeth Ward Perkins
Dear Bessie, would my tired rhyme
Had force to rise from apathy,
And shaking off its lethargy
Ring word-tones like a Christmas chime.
“The only book that the party had was a volume of Dickens.
During the six months that they lay in the cave which they
had hacked in the ice, waiting for spring to come, they read
this volume through again and again.”-From a
Interr'd beneath this marble stone,
Lie saunt'ring Jack and idle Joan.
While rolling threescore years and one
Did round this globe their courses run;
‘Fall in! Now get a move on.' (Curse the rain.)
We splash away along the straggling village,
Out to the flat rich country, green with June…
And sunset flares across wet crops and tillage,
The Old Huntsman
I've never ceased to curse the day I signed
A seven years' bargain for the Golden Fleece.
'Twas a bad deal all round; and dear enough
It cost me, what with my daft management,
I Saw Three Ships
I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day in the morning.
Old SANTECLAUS with much delight
His reindeer drives this frosty night,
O'er chimney-tops, and tracks of snow,
To bring his yearly gifts to you.
Clement C. Moore
No gardener need go far to find
The Christmas rose,
The fairest of the flowers that mark
The sweet Year's close:
Maurine: Part 05
A visit to a cave some miles away
Was next in order. So, one sunny day,
Four prancing steeds conveyed a laughing load
Of merry pleasure-seekers o'er the road.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
A Christmas Carol
So now is come our joyful'st feast,
Let every man be jolly.
Each room with ivy leaves is drest,
And every post with holly.
In the far-off Polar seas,
Far beyond the Hebrides,
Where the icebergs, towering high,
Seem to pierce the wintry sky,
Jolly Old St. Nicholas
Jolly old St. Nicholas, Lean your ear this way!
Don't you tell a single soul, What I'm going to say;
Christmas Eve is coming soon; Now, you dear old man,
Whisper what you'll bring to me: Tell me if you can.
The Wassail Song
Here we come a wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a wandering
So fair to be seen.