December / Edwin Arnold

December

In fret-work of frost and spangle of snow
Unto his end the year doth wend;
And sadly for some the days did go,
And glad for some were beginning and end!
But — sad or glad — grieve not for his death,
Mournfully counting your measures of breath,
You, that, before the stars began,
Were seed of woman and promise of man,
You who are older than Aldebaran!
It was but a ring round about the Sun,
One passing dance of the planets done;
One step of the Infinite Minuet
Which the great worlds pace, to a music set
By Life immortal and Love divine:
Whereof is struck, in your threescore and ten,
One chord of the harmony, fair and fine,
Of that which maketh us women and men!
In fret-work of frost and spangle of snow,
Sad or glad — let the old year go!

~~

Edwin Arnold (1832-1904)

from Poems: National and non-oriental, 1906

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Edwin Arnold biography

Hannes Grobe, New Year's Eve 2022/23 in Bremerhaven, Germany.

CC BY-SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons.

Ballade of Christmas Ghosts / Andrew Lang

Ballade of Christmas Ghosts

Between the moonlight and the fire
In winter twilights long ago,
What ghosts we raised for your desire,
To make your merry blood run slow!
How old, how grave, how wise we grow!
No Christmas ghost can make us chill,
Save those that troop in mournful row,
The ghosts we all can raise at will!

The beasts can talk in barn and byre
On Christmas Eve, old legends know.
As year by year the years retire,
We men fall silent then I trow,
Such sights hath memory to show,
Such voices from the silence thrill,
Such shapes return with Christmas snow,—
The ghosts we all can raise at will.

Oh, children of the village choir,
Your carols on the midnight throw,
Oh, bright across the mist and mire,
Ye ruddy hearths of Christmas glow!
Beat back the dread, beat down the woe,
Let's cheerily descend the hill;
Be welcome all, to come or go,
The ghosts we all can raise at will!

Envoy

Friend, sursum corda, soon or slow
We part, like guests who've joyed their fill;
Forget them not, nor mourn them so,
The ghosts we all can raise at will!

~~
Andrew Lang (1844-1912), 1884
from Rhymes a la Mode, 1885

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Andrew Lang biography

"Ballade of Christmas Ghosts" read by The English Channel.

Nativity / John Donne

Nativity

Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
    Now leaves His well-belov’d imprisonment,
    There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
    Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
    Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod’s jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how He
    Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
    Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.

~~
John Donne (1572-1631)
from Poems, 1633

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

John Donne biography

"Nativity" read by Ghizela Rowe.

At Christmas-tide / H. Cordelia Ray

At Christmas-tide

Gleamed a resplendent star
Over the hillsides far,
While shepherds watched by night
On the peaceful height.

Softly the gold-light fell
Over the vale and dell,
While angels warbled clear
“Lo! the Christ-child's here!”

Wise men brought there with them,
Sweet Child of Bethlehem,
Rare gifts to offer Thee,
For Thou mad'st them free.

“Peace!” list the magic word
Now through the ages heard;
“Good-will!” it echoes still
With the olden thrill.

Sweet Child in mercy sent,
Jesus, grant us content.
Evermore may we be
Near to truth and Thee!

~~
H. Cordelia Ray (1852-1916)
from Poems, 1910

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

H. Cordelia Ray biography

Nativity, c. 1720-1725 (detail). Public domain, Wikimedia Commons.

Under the Mistletoe / Countee Cullen

Under the Mistletoe

Under the Mistletoe, 1902. 

Courtesy Library of Congress

I did not know she’d take it so,
Or else I’d never dared;
Although the bliss was worth the blow,
I did not know she’d take it so.
She stood beneath the mistletoe
So long I thought she cared;
I did not know she’d take it so,
Or else I’d never dared.

~~
Countee Cullen (1903-1946)
from Copper Sun, 1927

[Poem is in the public domain in 

Canada and the United States]

Countee Cullen biography

"Under the Mistletoe" read by Arna Bontemps. Courtesy Smithsonian Folkways Recordings.

Christmas at Melrose / Leslie Pinckney Hill

Christmas at Melrose

Come home with me a little space
And browse about our ancient place,
Lay by your wonted troubles here
And have a turn of Christmas cheer.
These sober walls of weathered stone
Can tell a romance of their own,
And these wide rooms of devious line
Are kindly meant in their design.
Sometimes the north wind searches through,
But be shall not be rude to you.
We’ll light a log of generous girth
For winter comfort, and the mirth
Of healthy children you shall see
About a sparkling Christmas tree.
Eleanor, leader of the fold,
Hermione with heart of gold,
Elaine with comprehending eyes,
And two more yet of coddling size,
Natalie pondering all that’s said,
And Mary with the cherub head —
All these shall give you sweet content
And care-destroying merriment,
While one with true madonna grace
Moves round the glowing fire-place
Where father loves to muse aside
And grandma sits in silent pride.
And you may chafe the wasting oak,
Or freely pass the kindly joke
To mix with nuts and home-made cake
And apples set on coals to bake.
Or some fine carol we will sing
In honor of the Manger King
Or hear great Milton’s organ verse
Or Plato’s dialogue rehearse
What Socrates with his last breath
Sublimely said of life and death.
These dear delights we fain would share
With friend and kinsman everywhere,
And from our door see them depart
Each with a little lighter heart.

~~

Leslie Pinckney Hill (1880-1960)

from The Wings of Oppression, 1921

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Leslie Pinckney Hill biography 

"Christmas at Melrose" read by the Pen to Ptint Creative Writing Community.

Joy like a stream flows through the Christmas-streets / Alexander Smith

from Sonnets

Joy like a stream flows through the Christmas-streets,
But I am sitting in my silent room,
Sitting all silent in congenial gloom.
To-night, while half the world the other greets
With smiles and grasping hands and drinks and meats,
I sit and muse on my poetic doom;
Like the dim scent within a budded rose,
A joy is folded in my heart; and when
I think on Poets nurtured 'mong the throes,
And by the lowly hearths of common men, —
Think of their works, some song, some swelling ode
With gorgeous music growing to a close,
Deep-muffled as the dead -march of a god, —
My heart is burning to be one of those.

~~
Alexander Smith (1830-1867)
from Poems, 1853

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Alexander Smith biography

Jacobus Josephus Eeckhout  (1793–1861), Writing Man, 1859. 

Public domain, Wikimedia Commons. 

Thou Gloomy December / Robert Burns

Thou Gloomy December

Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
    Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care:
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember –
    Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair!

Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure,
    Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
    Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure!

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
    Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown,
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
    Till my last hope and last comfort is gone!

Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
    Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
    Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

~~
Robert Burns (1759-1796), 1791

from Scots Musical Museum, 1796

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Robert Burns biography

"Thou Gloomy December" read by Robert Carlyle. Courtesy Robert Carlyle Italia.

Before the Snow / George Parsons Lathrop

Before the Snow

Autumn is gone: through the blue woodlands bare
    Shatters the rainy wind. A myriad leaves,
Like birds that fly the mournful Northern air.
    Flutter away from the old forest's eaves.

Autumn is gone: as yonder silent rill,
    Slow eddying o'er thick leaf-heaps lately shed,
My spirit, as I walk, moves awed and still,
    By thronging fancies wild and wistful led.

Autumn is gone: alas, how long ago
    The grapes were plucked, and garnered was the grain!
How soon death settles on us, and the snow
    Wraps with its white alike our graves, our gain!

Yea, autumn's gone! Yet it robs not my mood
    Of that which makes moods dear,— some shoot of spring
Still sweet within me; or thoughts of yonder wood
    We walked in,— memory's rare environing.

And, though they die, the seasons only take
    A ruined substance. All that's best remains
In the essential vision that can make
    One light for life, love, death, their joys, their pains.

~~
George Parsons Lathrop (1851-1898)
from Dreams and Days, 1892

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

George Parsons Lathrop biography

Tom Thompson (1877-1917), Autumn Birches, 1916. Wikimedia Commons.

December's featured poem

The Penny Blog's featured poem for December 2024:

In the Bleak Mid-winter, by Christina Rossetti 

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone

[...]

(sung by James Taylor)

https://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-bleak-mid-winter-christina-rossetti.html

Penny's Top 20 / November 2024

                                           

Penny's Top 20

The most-visited poems on  The Penny Blog in November 2024:

  1.  Large Red Man Reading, Wallace Stevens

  2.  Skating, William Wordsworth

  3.  December, John Clare

  4.  Moonlight Alert, Yvor Winters

  5.  November, George J. Dance

  6.  The Red Wheelbarrow, William Carlos Williams
  7.  Ode to Sport, Pierre de Coubertin

  8.  For the Fallen, Laurence Binyon
  9.  The Thrush, Edward Thomas

10.  The Death of the Flowers, William Cullen Bryant 

11.  How Sleep the Brave, William Collins

12.  Vowels, Arthur Rimbaud

13.  November in the City, Edith Wyatt

14.  In November, Bliss Carman

15.  Esthetique du Mal, Wallace Stevens

16.  Design for November, William Carlos Williams

17.  November, Edwin Arnold

18.  November, Hartley Coleridge
19.  The March, J.C. Squire

20. 4 autumn American Haiku, Jack Kerouac

Source: Blogger, "Stats"