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Poem by John Clare
Christmas
Christmas is come and every hearth Makes room to give him welcome now E'en want will dry its tears in mirth And crown him wi' a holly bough Tho tramping 'neath a winters sky O'er snow track paths and rhymey stiles The huswife sets her spining bye And bids him welcome wi' her smiles Each house is swept the day before And windows stuck wi' evergreens The snow is beesom'd from the door And comfort crowns the cottage scenes Gilt holly wi' its thorny pricks And yew and box wi' berrys small These deck the unus'd candlesticks And pictures hanging by the wall Neighbours resume their anual cheer Wishing wi smiles and spirits high Clad christmass and a happy year To every morning passer bye Milk maids their christmass journeys go Accompanyd wi favourd swain And childern pace the crumping snow To taste their grannys cake again Hung wi the ivys veining bough The ash trees round the cottage farm Are often stript of branches now The cotters christmass hearth to warm He swings and twists his hazel band And lops them off wi sharpend hook And oft brings ivy in his hand To decorate the chimney nook Old winter whipes his ides bye And warms his fingers till he smiles Where cottage hearths are blazing high And labour resteth from his toils Wi merry mirth beguiling care Old customs keeping wi the day Friends meet their christmass cheer to share And pass it in a harmless way Old customs O I love the sound However simple they may be What ere wi time has sanction found Is welcome and is dear to me Pride grows above simplicity And spurns it from her haughty mind And soon the poets song will be The only refuge they can find The shepherd now no more afraid Since custom doth the chance bestow Starts up to kiss the giggling maid Beneath the branch of mizzletoe That neath each cottage beam is seen Wi pearl-like-berrys shining gay The shadow still of what hath been Which fashion yearly fades away And singers too a merry throng At early morn wi simple skill Yet imitate the angels song And chant their christmass ditty still And mid the storm that dies and swells By fits-in humings softly steals The music of the village bells Ringing round their merry peals And when its past a merry crew Bedeckt in masks and ribbons gay The 'Morrice danse' their sports renew And act their winter evening play The clown-turnd-kings for penny praise Storm wi the actors strut and swell And harlequin a laugh to raise Wears his hump back and tinkling bell And oft for pence and spicy ale Wi winter nosgays pind before The wassail singer tells her tale And drawls her christmass carrols oer The prentice boy wi ruddy face And ryhme bepowderd dancing locks From door to door wi happy pace Runs round to claim his 'christmass box' The block behind the fire is put To sanction customs old desires And many a faggots bands are cut For the old farmers christmass fires Where loud tongd gladness joins the throng And winter meets the warmth of may Feeling by times the heat too strong And rubs his shins and draws away While snows the window panes bedim The fire curls up a sunny charm Where creaming oer the pitchers rim The flowering ale is set to warm Mirth full of joy as summer bees Sits there its pleasures to impart While childern tween their parents knees Sing scraps of carrols oer by heart And some to view the winter weathers Climb up the window seat wi glee Likening the snow to falling feathers In fancys infant extacy Laughing wi superstitious love Oer visions wild that youth supplyes Of people pulling geese above And keeping christmass in the skyes As tho the homstead trees were drest In lieu of snow wi dancing leaves As. tho the sundryd martins nest Instead of ides hung the eaves The childern hail the happy day As if the snow was april grass And pleasd as neath the warmth of may Sport oer the water froze to glass Thou day of happy sound and mirth That long wi childish memory stays How blest around the cottage hearth I met thee in my boyish days Harping wi raptures dreaming joys On presents that thy coming found The welcome sight of little toys The christmass gifts of comers round 'The wooden horse wi arching head Drawn upon wheels around the room The gilded coach of ginger bread And many colord sugar plumb Gilt coverd books for pictures sought Or storys childhood loves to tell Wi many a urgent promise bought To get tomorrows lesson well And many a thing a minutes sport Left broken on the sanded floor When we woud leave our play and court Our parents promises for more Tho manhood bids such raptures dye And throws such toys away as vain Yet memory loves to turn her eye And talk such pleasures oer again Around the glowing hearth at night The harmless laugh and winter tale Goes round-while parting friends delight To toast each other oer their ale The cotter oft wi quiet zeal Will musing oer his bible lean While in the dark the lovers steal To kiss and toy behind the screen The yule cake dotted thick wi plumbs Is on each supper table found And cats look up for falling crumbs Which greedy childern litter round And huswifes sage stuffd seasond chine Long hung in chimney nook to drye And boiling eldern berry wine To drink the christmas eves 'good bye'
John Clare
Poem Theme: Christmas
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