Ring out wild bells to the wild sky: In Memoriam 106

St Sylvester, Tuesday 30th December, 2024

In Memoriam 106, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,

   The flying cloud, the frosty light:

   The year is dying in the night;

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

 

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

   Ring happy bells across the snow,

   The year is going, let him go;

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,

   For those that here we see no more;

   Ring out the feud between rich and poor,

Ring in redress to all mankind.

 

Ring out a slowly dying cause,

   And ancient forms of party strife;

   Ring in the nobler modes of life,

With sweeter manners, purer laws.

 

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,

   The faithless coldness of the times;

   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes.

And let the fuller minstrel in.

 

Ring out false pride in place and blood,

   The civic slander and the pride;

   Ring in the love of truth and right,

Ring in the common love of good.

 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,

   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;

   Ring out the thousand wars of old,

Ring in the thousand years of peace.

 

Ring in the valiant and free,

   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;

   Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ who is yet to be.

Mistletoe

 Monday 30th December 2024

Mistletoe by Walter de la Mare (1873-1956)

Sitting under the mistletoe

(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),

One last candle burning low,

All the sleepy dancers gone,

Just one candle burning on,

Shadows lurking everywhere:

Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go

Nodding under the mistletoe

(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),

No footsteps came, no voice, but only,

Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,

Stooped in the still and shadowy air

Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

     I first heard this the other week on BBC Radio 3 - it was the 'Friday Poem' - when I was struck both by the melancholic atmosphere and the occult sensibility.

The Waits

 29th December, 2024

The Waits, by Margaret Deland (1857-1945)

At the break of Christmas Day,

   Through the frosty starlight ringing,

Faint and sweet and far away,

   Comes the sound of children, singing,

         Chanting, singing,

    “Cease to mourn,

   For Christ is born,

         Peace and joy to all men bringing!”

 

Careless that the chill winds blow,

   Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,

Noiseless footfalls in the snow,

   Bring the happy voices nearer;

         Hear them singing,

    “Winter’s drear,

   But Christ is here,

         Mirth and gladness with Him bringing.”

 

“Merry Christmas!” hear them say,

   As the East is growing lighter;

“May the joy of Christmas Day

   Make your whole year gladder, brighter!”

         Join their singing,

    “To each home

   Our Christ has come,

         All Love’s treasures with Him bringing!”

Nativity

Holy Innocents, 28th December, 2024

Nativity, by John Donne (1572-1631)

Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov’d imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod’s jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.

A Christmas Carol

 St John the Evangelist, 27th December 2024

A Christmas Carol, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

I.

   The Shepherds went their hasty way,
        And found the lowly stable-shed
   Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
        And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung,
A Mother’s song the Virgin-Mother sung.

II.

   They told her how a glorious light,
         Streaming from a heavenly throng,
   Around them shone, suspending night!
         While sweeter than a Mother’s song,
Blest Angels heralded the Saviour’s birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.

III.

   She listened to the tale divine,
         And closer still the Babe she pressed;
   And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
         The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer’s morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.

IV.

   Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
         Poor, simple, and of low estate!
   That Strife should vanish, Battle cease,
         O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music’s loudest note, the Poet’s story,—
Did’st thou ne’er love to hear of Fame and Glory?

V.

   And is not War a youthful King,
         A stately Hero clad in Mail?
   Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
         Him Earth’s majestic monarchs hail
Their Friend, their Playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden’s love-confessing sigh.

VI.

   “Tell this in some more courtly scene,
         “To maids and youths in robes of state!
   “I am a woman poor and mean,
         “And therefore is my Soul elate.
“War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
“That from the aged Father tears his Child!

VII.

   “A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
         “He kills the Sire and starves the Son;
   “The Husband kills, and from her board
         “Steals all his Widow’s toil had won;
“Plunders God’s world of beauty; rends away
“All safety from the Night, all comfort from the Day.

VIII.

   “Then wisely is my soul elate,
         “That Strife should vanish, Battle cease:
   “I’m poor and of a low estate,
         “The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
“Joy rises in me, like a summer’s morn:
“Peace, Peace on Earth, the Prince of Peace is born.”