Poems (May)/Christmas

by Edith May

For works with similar titles, see Christmas.

CHRISTMAS.

Why do the bells keep ringing?—
    It is Christmas.
Without, in the snowy street,
Thou mayest hear a sound of feet;
The noise of people who pass
On their way to hear midnight mass
  At the church around the corner.
    Holy Christmas!

Why dost thou call it holy,
    Holy Christmas?—
Child, upon a Christmas night,
Rose the wondrous star whose light
Led three magi to the manger
Where reposed a royal stranger
  Once discrowned for thy salvation.
    Blessed Christmas!

How discrowned for my salvation
    On a Christmas?—
God loved the world so well—
The mystic Gospels tell—
That He sent His Son divine,
For the world's sake—thine and mine—
  To be born of a pure virgin
    On a Christmas.

Born of the Virgin Mary
    On a Christmas—
Ay, the mother undefiled,
But he loves us both, my child,
Quite as dearly as his mother,
If we serve him and none other,
  If we take his cross upon us.
    Precious Christmas!

Do we take His cross upon us
    Now, this Christmas?
It is deadly dark and damp,
The palest ray of a lamp
Were a comfort in this place;
And snow and hail, apace,
  Without, came down together.
    Stormy Christmas!

How the snow and hail come down
    When 'tis Christmas!—
Yes, the nights wax long and cold.
And the winds wax rough and bold;
Neither snow, nor hail, nor rain,
Shall provoke us to complain,
  For we bear His cross, sweet Jesu;
    On this Christmas.

We will bear His cross, sweet Jesu,
    On this Christmas!—
Child, how deadly cold thou art—
Creep closer to my heart.
I will stretch myself part over thee,
These thin rags scarcely cover thee.
  Oh the night, the night is fearful!
    Bitter Christmas!

Yes, the nights are very fearful,
    Now 'tis Christmas.—
I keep thinking of other days,
Of our Christmas hearth in a blaze,
Of the sweetest time in my life,
When I'd been one year a wife,
  And thou wert a baby, dearest!
    Happy Christmas!

I was only a baby then,
    On that Christmas—
Thou wert only a babe at the breast,
But the sweetest, dearest, best!
Thy father might weary of me.
But how could he stray from thee?
  Boy, he has left us to perish!
    What a Christmas!

Yes, we must surely perish
    On this Christmas—
Oh darling, creep closer to me;
Strange are the faces I see,
Lights flash about in the room,
As though up through the desolate gloom
  Sprang the angels proclaiming Messiah—
    Wondrous Christmas!

If they sing to us of Messiah,
    Happy Christmas!—
Adrift on the stormy weather,
Come the organ notes fitfully hither.
I could sleep awhile if I tried;
Creep close, close to my side,
  Lay thy head on my shoulder.
    Icy Christmas!

Wake, neighbour, noon is over.
    Merry Christmas!—
No one answers call or knock;
And they shatter the crazy lock.
Then the Christmas sun, cold shining,
Lights the twain in sleep reclining.
  Strange to sleep so late in the morning
    On a Christmas.