The Everything Family Christmas Book (37 page)

Then whether from mistaken courtesy
And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether
From hope of hearing good of what was mine,
I said, “There aren’t enough to be worth while.”
“I could soon tell how many they would cut,
You let me look them over.”

“You could look.
But don’t expect I’m going to let you have them.”
Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close
That lop each other of boughs, but not a few
Quite solitary and having equal boughs
All round and round. The latter he nodded “Yes” to,
Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,
With a buyer’s moderation, “That would do.”
I thought so, too, but wasn’t there to say so.
We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,
And came down on the north.

He said, “A thousand.”

“A thousand Christmas trees!—at what apiece?”

He felt some need of softening that to me:
“A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”

Then I was certain I had never meant
To let him have them. Never show surprise!
But thirty dollars seemed so small beside
The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents
(For that was all they figured out apiece),
Three cents so small beside the dollar friends
I should be writing to within the hour
Would pay in cities for good trees like those.
Regular vestry trees whole Sunday Schools
Could hang enough on to pick off enough.
A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!
Worth three cents more to give away than sell
As may be shown by a simple calculation.
Too bad I couldn’t lay one in a letter.
I can’t help wishing I could send you one,
In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.

Perhaps best known for his poem, “The Road Not Taken,” American poet Robert Frost (1874–1963) won four Pulitzer prizes for his work. While much of his poetry describes his surroundings in New England, it also explores the themes of life, loss, and the ways of nature.

The Oxen

Thomas Hardy

Although most of his work focuses on characters who live in the fictitious Wessex county of England, Thomas Hardy also wrote about Christmas. In “The Oxen,” he puts into verse a centuries-old legend: that at midnight on the eve of Christ’s birth, and every Christmas Eve thereafter, the oxen fall to their knees in honor of the Lord.

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.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where

They dwelt in their strawy pen,

Nor did it occur to one of us there

To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave

In these years! Yet, I feel,

If someone said on Christmas Eve,

“Come; see the oxen kneel

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb

Our childhood used to know,”

I should go with him in the gloom,

Hoping it might be so.

Many readers of English literature will recognize Thomas Hardy (1840–1928) as the author of novels such as Far From the Madding Crowd, Return of the Native, and Tess of the d’Urbervilles. The author actually trained as an architect, but was able to give up his practice as his novels became more successful.

Poems for Christmas

Marie Irish

Marie Irish specialized in poems, songs, and plays for children to perform at Christmas time. Here are a few examples of her delightful work.

Christmas Lights

Bright Christmas stars shine on high,
Golden stars in the wint’ry sky;
Christmas candles in windows brought
Send a greeting into the night;
While in our hearts the Christmas flame,
Glows with a love like His who came,
The infant Christ of lowly birth,
To bring good will and peace to earth.

Merry Christmas

I like Christmas day,
With its wreaths of holly,
I like Santa Claus
With his smile so jolly;
I like the Christmas tree,
Shining straight and tall,
And my pretty presents,
I surely like them all.
I like the smiles and cheer,
And how I like to hear
The happy people say
“Merry Christmas” in such a pleasant way.

The Merry Day

Mother Nature robes herself
In her snowy gown of white,
Father Winter scatters frost
That glistens with a sparkling light.

Old December lags along
With reluctant footsteps slow,
Until Miss Christmas comes at last,
With the jolliest hours we know.

Santa Claus, the bountiful,
Helps her in his lavish way—
December, Christmas, Santa Claus,
O, what a merry, merry day!

Christmas Secrets

Think of the thousands of secrets
That are tucked securely away,
All sorts of wonderful secrets
To be revealed on Christmas day.

Secrets large and secrets small,
Secrets short and secrets tall,
Secrets thick and secrets thin
—Won’t the folks who get them grin?

There are secrets flat on their backs,
There are others hanging up high,
Some are standing smack on their heads,
Some in pitchy-black corners lie.

Secrets round and secrets square,
Secrets dark and secrets fair,
Secrets sour and secrets sweet,
Secrets to wear and secrets to eat.

And if all these secrets were one And laid out on a long, long shelf, I think it would surely surprise Dear old jolly Santa himself.

One of Marie Irish’s books, titled Choice Christmas Entertainments, was published in 1922 by Paine Publishing Co. of Dayton, Ohio. The book’s cover shows a charming picture of Santa Claus standing on a roof, about to head down the chimney with a big sack of toys over his shoulder.

Christmas—863

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Although describing a specific Christmas during the Civil War, Longfellow stresses in this poem a theme that applies to every era: Even though life is full of hardship, the goodness of God will always prevail.

I hear the bells on Christmas day
The old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet,
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men.

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South;
And with that sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men.

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearthstones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The household born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head,
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men.”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882) was hugely popular during the nineteenth century, particularly for his narrative poetry. These story poems, describing characters and events from America’s history, include “The Song of Hiawatha” and “Evangeline” (about a young couple who were torn apart during the expulsion of Acadian settlers from eastern Canada).