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Christmas Song
LYDIA A.C. WARD Why do bells for Christmas r...

Fairy Faces
ANON Out of the mists of childhood, ...

Christmas
ANON Once in Royal David's city Stood...

Mr Bluffs Experiences Of Holidays
OLIVER BELL BUNCE I hate holidays, said Bachelor Blu...

The Shepherd's Song
EDMUND BOLTON Sweet music, sweeter far ...

A Christmas Insurrection
ANNE P.L. FIELD In the hush of a shivery Chr...

The Birth Of Christ
ALFRED TENNYSON The time draws near the birt...





An Ode On The Birth Of Our Saviour






ROBERT HERRICK

In numbers, and but these few,
I sing thy birth, O Jesu!
Thou pretty baby, born here
With sup'rabundant scorn here;
Who for thy princely port here,
Hadst for thy place
Of birth, a base
Out-stable for thy court here.

Instead of neat enclosures
Of interwoven osiers,
Instead of fragrant posies
Of daffodils and roses,
Thy cradle, kingly stranger,
As gospel tells,
Was nothing else
But here a homely manger.

But we with silks, not crewels,
With sundry precious jewels,
And lily work will dress thee,
And, as we dispossess thee
Of clouts, we'll make a chamber,
Sweet babe, for thee
Of ivory,
And plaster'd round with amber.





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