Hark! A voice from yonder manger,
Soft and sweet,
Doth entreat: ‘Flee from woe and danger.
Brethren, from all ills that grieve you,
You are freed;
All you need
I will surely give you.’
Come, then, let us hasten yonder;
Here let all,
Great and small,
Kneel in awe and wonder.
Love him who with love is yearning;
Hail the star
That from far,
Bright with hope is burning.
Dearest Lord, thee will I cherish.
Though my breath
Fail in death,
Yet I shall not perish,
But with thee abide forever
There on high,
In that joy
Which can vanish never.
Paul Gerhardt (1607–76), translated by
Catherine Winkworth (1827–78)
All the days of Christmas (#ulink_f1d4428c-97d0-5236-9667-6b4bcbaf9fcd)
This poem by Phyllis McGinley, an American poet and writer for the New Yorker, takes some of the features of the perennially-popular ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ and weaves them into a meditation on family and love against the backdrop of the modern festive season.
What shall my true love (#ulink_850e0df5-71f8-5d72-8fe7-15af0aeca806)
Have from me
To pleasure his Christmas
Wealthily?
The partridge has flown
From our pear tree.
Flown with our summers,
Are the swans, the geese.
Milkmaids and drummers
Would leave him little peace.
I’ve no gold ring
And no turtle dove.
So what can I bring
To my true love?
A coat for the drizzle,
Chosen at the store;
A saw and a chisel
For mending the door;
A pair of red slippers
To slip on his feet;
Three striped neckties;
Something sweet.
He shall have all