Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Three Christmas Poems

"A Christmas Carol"
by G.K. Chesterton

The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all alright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.
Mr. Chesterton
















 
"That Holy Thing"
by George MacDonald

They all were looking for a king
To slay their foes and lift them high:
Thou cam'st, a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.

O Son of Man, to right my lot
Naught but Thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,
Nor on the sea Thy sail!

My how or when Thou wilt not heed,
But come down Thine own secret stair,
That Thou mayst answer all my need—
Yea, every bygone prayer.

Mr. MacDonald











 

"A Christmas Hymn"
by Richard Wilbur

A stable-lamp is lighted
Whose glow shall wake the sky;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
And straw like gold shall shine;
A barn shall harbor heaven,
A stall become a shrine.


This child through David’s city
Shall ride in triumph by;
The palm shall strew its branches,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
Though heavy, dull, and dumb,
And lie within the roadway
To pave his kingdom come.

Yet he shall be forsaken,
And yielded up to die;
The sky shall groan and darken,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
For stony hearts of men:
God’s blood upon the spearhead,
God’s love refused again.

But now, as at the ending,
The low is lifted high;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
In praises of the child
By whose descent among us
The worlds are reconciled.
Mr. Wilbur












(Thanks to my friends Gretchen and Donna for supplying me with the first 2 poems.)

2 comments:

  1. I have to confess I smiled at the Christ-child's hair like fire. Jo has been most poorly and on Christmas Eve our fabulous doctor friend sent me home with antibiotic and the instruction to sit him at the back door and then wet his hair to cool the temperature down. I wonder did Mary do that too?!

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  2. Mags, you made me giggle with that question :) I hope his temperature does go down! I've often wondered at all the various motherly duties that Mary must have had to perform on baby Jesus. Diapers. Potty training. Nose blowing. Ailments. Head colds and fevers. They did all of that. Do you wonder at what age he realized who he was? That's a mystery I'd love to hear told someday.

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