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Wassailer's Song
ROBERT SOUTHWELL Wassail! wassail! all over ...

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

Hymn For Christmas
FELICIA HEMANS Oh! lovely voices of the sky ...

The Christmas Fires
ANNE P.L. FIELD The Christmas fires brightly...

Merry Christmas
ANON In the rush of the merry morning, ...

Colonial Christmases
ALICE MORSE EARLE [From Customs and Fashions in Old ...

The Call Of The Woodsman
The day before Christmas, in the year of our Lord 722...





New Prince New Pomp






ROBERT SOUTHWELL

Behold a simple, tender Babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight.

The inns are full; no man will yield
This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced he is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud his head.

Despise him not for lying there;
First what he is inquire:
An Orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.

Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.

This stable is a Prince's court,
The crib his chair of state;
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.

The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The Prince himself is come from heaven:
This pomp is praised there.

With joy approach, O Christian wight!
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise this humble pomp,
Which he from heaven doth bring.





Next: The Three Kings

Previous: Hymn For Christmas



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