My Lady of the Sonnets, one word more / Robert Norwood

XXX

My Lady of the Sonnets, one word more,
The last; and, after, let the silence fall.
Our year is ended, and things great and small
Glow with its glory; could we live it o'er,
What would we scatter from its precious store
Of pearl, chalcedony, and topaz — all
The many-jewelled moments that we call
Love's treasure — we who had not loved before!
Into that treasure plunge we both our hands,
The while we laugh, and love, and live again.
What rainbow-splendours and what golden sands
Fall from our fingers! . . . Now let come the pain
And steal the shadow, moan the wintry sea;
Locked is the casket: in your hands the key!

~~
Robert Norwood (1874-1932)
from His Lady of the Sonnets, 1915

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

Robert Norwood biography

December Days / Caleb Prentiss

December Days

Ruthless winter's rude career
Comes to close the parting year;
Fleecy flakes of snow descend,
Boreal winds the welkin rend.
Reflect, oh man! and well remember
That dull old age is dark December;
For soon the year of life is gone,
When hoary hairs like snow come on.

~~
Caleb Prentiss (1771-1838)
from History of Paris, Maine, 1884

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Caleb Prentiss biography

December / Rebecca Hey

from The Poetical Calendar

December

As human life begins and ends with woe,
So doth the year with darkness and with storm.
Mute is each sound, and vanish'd each fair form
That wont to cheer us; yet a sacred glow —
A moral beauty,— to which Autumn's show,
Or Spring's sweet blandishments, or Summer's bloom,
Are but vain pageants,— mitigate the gloom,
What time December's angry tempests blow.
'Twas when the "Earth had doff'd her gaudy trim,
As if in awe," that she received her Lord;
And angels jubilant attuned the hymn
Which the church echoes still in sweet accord,
And ever shall, while Time his course doth fill,
'Glory to God on high! on earth, peace and good will!'

~~
Rebecca Hey (1797-1867)
from Recollections of the Lakes, and other poems, 1841

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

[January]

Rebecca Hey biography

Heaven's Man / AE Reiff

Heaven’s Man

Who then first found the cosmos in a man,

Divided minutes of his arc, set axis?

If man be heaven's, then heaven is for man,

And this his truth, how big the universe.

He is no sun that planets orb and orb,

Or like the moon, his body old and dead,

Nor is he earth, that planet swirling through

His sphere, or other, Mars or Jupiter.

What is man that heaven admired him,

Or sons of men to be so greeting them?

Creating heaven with a touch, his fingers,

God gave to man dominion of his hands.

In all the world and worlds beyond oh Lord,

I seek to serve you and to know your word.

~~
AE Reiff, 2019

from The True Light that Lights, 2020

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

AE Reiff biography

A Christmas Carol / Aubrey de Vere

A Christmas Carol

They leave the land of gems and gold,
    The shining portals of the East;
For Him, the woman's Seed foretold,
    They leave the revel and the feast.

To earth their sceptres they have cast,
    And crowns by kings ancestral worn;
They track the lonely Syrian waste;
    They kneel before the Babe new born.

O happy eyes that saw Him first;
    O happy lips that kissed His feet:
Earth slakes at last her ancient thirst;
    With Eden's joy her pulses beat.

True kings are those who thus forsake
    Their kingdoms for the Eternal King;
Serpent, her foot is on thy neck;
    Herod, thou writhest, but canst not sting.

He, He is King, and He alone
    Who lifts that infant hand to bless;
Who makes His mother's knee His throne,
    Yet rules the starry wilderness.

~~

Aubrey Thomas de Vere (1814-1902)

from Christmas: Its origin, celebration and significance as related in prose and verse, 1907

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Aubrey Thomas de Vere biography

"A Christmas Carol" read by Doug Anderson for LibriVox. Courtesy freeaudiobooks84.

To-night ungather'd let us leave / Alfred Tennyson

CIII

To-night ungather'd let us leave
     This laurel, let this holly stand:
     We live within the stranger's land,
And strangely falls our Christmas eve.

Our father's dust is left alone
     And silent under other snows:
     There in due time the woodbine blows,
The violet comes, but we are gone.

No more shall wayward grief abuse
     The genial hour with mask and mime;
     For change of place, like growth of time,
Has' broke the bond of dying use.

Let cares that petty shadows cast,
     By which our lives are chiefly proved,
     A little spare the night I loved,
And hold it solemn to the past.

But let no footstep beat the floor,
     Nor bowl of wassail mantle warm;
     For who would keep an ancient form
Thro' which the spirit breathes no more?

Be neither song, nor game, nor feast;
     Nor harp be touch'd, nor flute be blown;
     No dance, no motion, save alone
What lightens in the lucid east

Of rising worlds by yonder wood.
     Long sleeps the summer in the seed;
     Run out your measured arcs, and lead
The closing cycle rich in good.

~~
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
from In Memoriam A.H.H., 1850

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Alfred Tennyson biography

"In Memoriam A.H.H. CIII"" read by Elizabeth Klett. Courtesy Librivox Audiobooks.

(Poem begins at 1:56:00)

The Shortest Day / Mary Devenport O'Neill

The Shortest Day

This is the shortest day,
‘Tis afternoon;
Warm with the fire I’ve loitered out to see
A pale wet mist
Hiding a yellow moon,
A bunch of jingling stares
Thickening the top of a bare Winter tree.

~~
Mary Devenport O'Neill (1879-1967)
from Prometheus, and other poems, 1929

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada]

Bert Kaufmann, Misty Winter Afternoon, Anselt, Netherlands, 2010. 

CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia Commns.

Mary Devenport O'Neill biography