Posts Tagged ‘Christmas Poetry’

Old-Time Christmas Tree

December 21, 2012

Christmas Tree - child - Appleton Post Crescent WI 22 Dec 1922

The Old-Time Christmas Tree.

I oft recall the Christmas tree
That bloomed when we were boys;
It seems a mystery to me
How it could hold the toys
That clung in clusters on each limb
Like grapes upon a vine,
While many a colored candle’s glim
On baubles bright would shine.

All through the reeking branches’ rifts
The wayward, wandering wax
Would gurgle over gaudy gifts,
And leave long tallow tracks;
Soft pills of purple paraffine
Would punctuate the hair
Of dolls and make their tresses’ sheen
A polka-dot affair.

The limp wax-drippings, light and dark,
Seeped down without surcease,
Bedecking beasts in Noah’s ark
With rainbow stripes of grease;
And lo a miracle was wrought
When falling candle clots
The litheless little leopard caught
And changed the creature’s spots.

The tainted touch of tinted grease,
Made a kaleidoscope
Of many a toy; the lamb’s white fleece
Was flecked like mottled soap;
The dark-bay horse was dappled blue,
The elephant turned green,
And other beasts assumed a hue
That ne’er before was seen.

Now distance lends enchantment to
Those lights of long ago,
And oft we fancy that they won
Our hearts with radiant glow;
The Yuletide tree when we were young
Seems fairer far than all
The boyhood pictures that are hung
On memory’s wide wall.

— T.B. Chrystal in N.Y. World.

New Castle News (New Castle, Pennsylvania) Dec 23, 1912

Sage Counsel – It’s What’s for Christmas

December 23, 2011

SAGE COUNSEL.

The Christmas season comes apace,
when smiles will hang from every face.
The Christmas spirit for a time,
will make our lives a thing sublime.
Alas, beshrew me, and dodgast!
The Christmas spirit does not last!
A day or two it warms our hearts,
then straightway shrivels and departs;
why does it chase itself so soon,
and leave our lives all out of tune?
It is because we eat too much
of turkey, pudding, pies and such;
the Christmas spirit cannot dwell
where people with dyspepsia yell.
The Christmas morning finds us calm;
the season, like a soothing balm,
has healed the broubles and the cares
that man through weary workdays bears.
We look with kind and loving eyes
upon our smiling fellowguys;
we send some peanuts to the poor,
and think the Spirit will endure.
And then we eat a gorgeous meal,
including turkeys, ducks and veal,
and pies — the kinds that mother made —
and doughnuts, cakes and marmalade.
At night our burdened innards balk,
and through long hours the floor we walk;
and in the morning, cold and gray —
the morning after Christmas day —
we groaning leave the sleepless berth,
and care no hoot, for peace on earth.
And now I spring some good advice,
which followed up, will cut much ice.
Eat humble grub on Christmas Day,
and give the gorgeous things away.

Walt Mason

Ogden Standard Examiner (Ogden, Utah) Dec 22, 1920

The Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Dec 23, 1911

Christmas Eves of Childhood

December 23, 2011

Image from The Bluegrass Special

Christmas Eve.

The following verses by a true woman, simple, touching, and teeming with mother-love, come to us from Monroe, Michigan:

‘Tis Christmas-eve! the tireless clock is tolling the hours away,
And my household all are sleeping, dreaming of Christmas-day,
My countless varying duties are finish’d, one by one,
Still, there’s always something left — my work is never done;
So I sit down by the cradle, my little one to rock,
And while I sing a lullaby, I knit for him a sock.

I’ve filled some little stockings with candy and with toys,
And hung them by the chimney-place, to please my darling boys.
There sleeping sweetly in their cribs, I’ve tucked the clothes in tight,
I’ve heard them say their evening prayer, and kiss’d them both good-night.
I know, that ere the daylight shall through the curtain peep,
Their Merry Christmas wishes will wake me from my sleep.

I’ve many, many thoughts to-night, and they are sad to me,
Two stockings only hang, this year, where three were wont to be;
The tears are falling thickly as I think of the day
When I laid that little stocking forevermore away;
For the happy one that hung it there not one short year ago
In yonder grave-yard quietly sleepeth ‘neath the snow.

How many little stockings, that on last Christmas-day
Were fill’d by darling little ones, have since been put away!
How many smiling faces, that to our nursery door
Came wishing “Merry Christmas,” will come again no more!
Their waxen hands are folded upon each quiet breast,
And the Sherpherd God has gather’d those little lambs to rest.

How many pleasant visions, and, oh what sad ones too,
With each succeeding Christmas-eve come vividly to view!
I see again my childhood’s home, and every loved one’s face;
The stockings hanging, as of yore, around the chimney-place,
From the wee red one of baby’s to grandpa’s sock of gray, —
Each in its own accustom’d place, not even one away.

But the pleasant vision passes, and one of darker shade
Reveals how many changes each Christmas-eve has made;
For those whose stockings hung there so closely side by side,
In happy days of childhood, are scatter’d far and wide!
A few still linger here to see this Christmas-eve pass by,
But many, many more to-night within the churchyard lie.

The baby’s sock is finish’d — ’tis sprinkled o’er with tears;
Where will his tiny footsteps wander in future years?
Perhaps this innocent will live to see as I have done,
The Christmas-eves of childhood steal onward one by one;
But whether a life of sorrow, or whether a life of joy,
I feel that I can trust with God my m???-loved baby boy.

The clock has struck the hour of twelve! I’ve put the sock away,
And by the baby’s cradle I now kneel down to pray —
To ask that loving Saviour who on Christmas morn was given
To save our souls from sin and death, and fit us all for Heaven,
That He would guide our footsteps, and fill us with his love,
That we may sing together a Christmas hymn above.

The Burlington Weekly Hawkeye (Burlington, Iowa) Dec 26, 1863

Christmas Shopping on the Farm

December 20, 2011

Image from Zazzle-Farm Christmas

A Verse for Today
By Anne Campbell

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING ON THE FARM

Around the kitchen table, with its checkered oilcloth cover,
A lighted kerosene lamp in the center, shedding cheer,
We sat on winter evenings, and we talked our shopping over;
For it was a December night with Christmas looming near.

The roads were banked with snowdrifts, and the hens had not bee laying.
It was well-nigh impossible to drive the team to town;
So on the printed pages of a catalog went straying
two pairs of twinkling blue eyes and two pairs of happy brown.

The catalog was thick and most profusely illustrated.
There was a section filled with toys and there we loved to look!
But Mother liked to see the furniture, and Father waited
To scan the pictures of the farm machines that spoiled the book.

At least we children thought so, for our minds were filled with scheming,
And nothing useful entered there! We marked the pages where
The toys were pictured, and the games; and then we fell to dreaming
Of Christmas and the happy rush of footsteps on the stair.

The clock struck nine, the book was closed, and sleepy children scattered
To dream of giant catalogs that whisked us far away
To the white home of Santa Claus, where little brown men chattered
Above the toys they fashioned for our happy Christmas Day!

Appleton Post Crescent (Appleton, Wisconsin) Dec 20, 1939

Appleton Post Crescent (Appleton, Wisconsin) Dec 20, 1939

The Mistletoe

December 19, 2011

The Mistletoe.

Oh, dainty odor of the mistletoe,
Sending my fancy off to long ago!
All this small room with faint perfume beset,
A modest mimicry of violet.

Those ancient days when linen robes of priest
Caught the green bough to deck some furious feast,
Breaking the brittlestems with knives of gold —
Those days were not so fine as some less old.

As jovial days, when jolly Christmastide
Filled all the earth with mirth, dear love beside,
Sweet was it then, beneath the mistletoe,
To catch a pretty maid and kiss her — so!

Oh,dear was yesterday beneath the bough,
And dear the kisses given there, I trow;
Full sweet the days we never can forget,
But, ah, tomorrows will be sweeter yet!

— New Orleans Picayne.

Edwardsville Intelligencer (Edwardsville, Illinois) Dec 21, 1892

The Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Dec 19, 1911

The Christmas Sting

December 18, 2011

Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Dec 19, 1911

Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Dec 18, 1911

Christmas Wish

December 16, 2011

CHRISTMAS WISH.

I wish that good old Santa
Would travel like a show
And to his tent of playthings
For nothing let me go.
And take along my stockings
To fill in laughing glee,
With all the things he fondly
Hangs on the Christmas tree.

I’d see the pasteboard camel
Wink at the kangaroo;
I’d see the china wombat
and quagga chase the gnu;
I’d see the rubber ostrich
Serenely wink his eye
To see the monkey capture
The peanut on the fly.

And then I’d see old Santa
With all his books of rhymes;
I’d grab him by the whiskers
And kiss him fifty times,
And on his back go riding
Beneath the fairy dome
And with a lot of playthings
Go running gayly home.

‘Tis then I think old Santa
Should up and go away
And in some other village
Put up his tent next day,
And then go on still farther,
And farther still and still
To let all lovely children
Their great big stockings fill.

‘Twould then be always Christmas,
All musical with joy
And bending tree and turkey
And hobby horse and toy,
For while upon his travels
Old Santa’d scatter cheer;
He’d make a Christmas somewhere
Each day throughout the year.

— Woman’s Home Companion.

The Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Dec 21, 1901

Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Dec 16, 1911

Song of the Christmas Shopper

December 15, 2011

Image from Chuckman’s Collection

SONG OF THE CHRISTMAS SHOPPER.

I’ve finished my Christmas shopping,
I’ve squandered my last red sou;
My wallet’s flat,
But I don’t mind that,
For thank the Lord, I’m through.
I’ve bought all the things I’ve listed,
And a dozen or more beside;
Twas a shame and a sin,
How I blew in,
My coin this glad Yuletide.
My corn is about to kill me,
And my joints are still and sore;
My back feels lame,
And my weary frame,
Will ached for a week or more.
I’ve finished my Christmas shopping,
I’ve got all I’m going to get,
By I gravely doubt,
Had my roll held out,
If I would have been through yet.

Appleton Post Crescent (Appleton, Wisconsin) Dec 22, 1923

Newark Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Dec 15, 1911

‘Bout Christmas

December 10, 2011

‘BOUT CHRISTMAS

The kindling’s all cut and the basement swept,
And everything’s where it should be kept;
In lessons he’s most perfected,
Does other things least expected.
That’s my son
On the run
For his dad
‘Bout Christmas.

I have never to look for coat or hat,
Neither to wonder where’s this or that,
My ties hang neatly on the rack,
And my soiled linen’s in the sack.
That’s my girl,
She’s a pearl
For her dad
‘Bout Christmas.

— M.F.S.

Appleton Post Crescent (Appleton, Wisconsin) Dec 24, 1924

Amarillo Daily Globe (Amarillo, Texas) Dec 10, 1941

Holly Song

December 9, 2011

Holly Song.

Care is but a broken bubble,
Trill the carol, troll the catch,
Sooth, we’ll cry, “A truce to trouble!”
Mirth and mistletoe shall match.

Happy folly! We’ll be jolly!
Who’d be melancholy now?
With a “Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!”
Polly hangs the holly bough.

Laughter lurking in the eye, sir,
Pleasure foots it frisk and free,
He who frowns or looks awry, sir,
Faith, a witless wight is he!

Merry folly! What a volley
Greets the hanging of the bough!
With a “Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!”
Who’d be melancholy now?

— Clinton Scollard in Century Magazine.

Beaver Falls Tribune (Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania) Dec 19, 1912

Appleton Post Crescent (Appleton, Wisconsin) Dec 9, 1921