Famous Holiday Poems

Gettin’ together to smile an’ rejoice,
An’ eatin’ an’ laughin’ with folks of your choice;
An’ kissin’ the girls an’ declarin’ that they
Are growin’ more beautiful day after day;
Chattin’ an’ braggin’ a bit with the men,
Buildin’ the old family circle again;
Livin’ the wholesome an’ old-fashioned cheer,
Just for awhile at the end of the year.

Greetings fly fast as we crowd through the door
And under the old roof we gather once more
Just as we did when the youngsters were small;
Mother’s a little bit grayer, that’s all.
Father’s a little bit older, but still
Ready to romp an’ to laugh with a will.
Here we are back at the table again
Tellin’ our stories as women an’ men.

Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer;
Oh, but we’re grateful an’ glad to be there.
Home from the east land an’ home from the west,
Home with the folks that are dearest an’ best.
Out of the sham of the cities afar
We’ve come for a time to be just what we are.
Here we can talk of ourselves an’ be frank,
Forgettin’ position an’ station an’ rank.

Give me the end of the year an’ its fun
When most of the plannin’ an’ toilin’ is done;
Bring all the wanderers home to the nest,
Let me sit down with the ones I love best,
Hear the old voices still ringin’ with song,
See the old faces unblemished by wrong,
See the old table with all of its chairs
An’ I’ll put soul in my Thanksgivin’ prayers.

I'd like to be the sort of friend
     that you have been to me;
I'd like to be the help that you've been
     always glad to be;
I'd like to mean as much to you
     each minute of the day
As you have meant, old friend of mine,
     to me along the way.

I'd like to do the big things
     and the splendid things for you,
To brush the gray out of your skies
     and leave them only blue;
I'd like to say the kindly things
     that I so oft have heard,
And feel that I could rouse your soul
     the way that mine you've stirred.

I'd like to give back the joy
     that you have given me,
Yet that were wishing you a need
     I hope will never be;
I'd like to make you feel
     as rich as I, who travel on
Undaunted in the darkest hours
     with you to lean upon.

I'm wishing at this Christmas time
     that I could but repay
A portion of the gladness
     that you've strewn along the way;
And could I have one wish this year,
     this only would it be:
I'd like to be the sort of friend
     that you have been to me.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too--
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight--
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

A man is at his finest
     towards the finish of the year;
He is almost what he should be
     when the Christmas season is here;
Then he's thinking more of others
     than he's thought the months before,
And the laughter of his children
     is a joy worth toiling for.
He is less a selfish creature than
     at any other time;
When the Christmas spirit rules him
     he comes close to the sublime.

When it's Christmas man is bigger
     and is better in his part;
He is keener for the service
     that is prompted by the heart.
All the petty thoughts and narrow
     seem to vanish for awhile
And the true reward he's seeking
     is the glory of a smile.
Then for others he is toiling and
     somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas he is almost
     what God wanted him to be.

If I had to paint a picture of a man
     I think I'd wait
Till he'd fought his selfish battles
     and had put aside his hate.
I'd not catch him at his labors
     when his thoughts are all of pelf,
On the long days and the dreary
     when he's striving for himself.
I'd not take him when he's sneering,
     when he's scornful or depressed,
But I'd look for him at Christmas
     when he's shining at his best.

Man is ever in a struggle
     and he's oft misunderstood;
There are days the worst that's in him
     is the master of the good,
But at Christmas kindness rules him
     and he puts himself aside
And his petty hates are vanquished
     and his heart is opened wide.
Oh, I don't know how to say it,
     but somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas man is almost
     what God sent him here to be.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

I REMEMBER in my childhood
  From my grandfather I heard
Charming tales of gone-by ages
  That my soul so deeply stirred.

Charming tales of ancient sages
  That I felt I knew were true;
Stories of the hoary ages
  That remain forever new.

Of the Pesach-days he told me,
  Days that joy and sunshine bring;
Of the Festival of Freedom,
  Of Revival and of Spring.

Of the slave-people in Egypt,
  Whose hot blood so rashly spilled,
Soaked into cold bricks and mortar
  Of the fortresses they built.

How on them, the God-forsaken,
  After gloomy wintry days,
Shone at last the rays of freedom,
  Heaven's bright and cheerful rays.

How among them rose a leader,
  Star-like in a gloomy night,
And he pleaded for their freedom,
  And he crushed a tyrant's might.

How he taught the fettered people
  Not in vain their blood to spill,
Turning bondmen into freemen,
  Men of honor and of will.

How the people's march to Freedom
  Could no despot's might restrain,
Till before their will resistless
  Stormy ocean oped in twain.

"Then it was our people's springtime,
  After which a summer came,
Followed by a golden harvest,
  Free from yoke and free from shame."

"Grand-sire, dear," I asked enraptured,
  "How long did that summer last?"
But he sadly gazed and pondered,
  And he answered me at last.

"Child, it was a long, bright summer,
  But a winter came again,
Came with cold and snow and showers,
  With its gales of grief and pain.

"Frost and tempest-strife, contention--
  Raged once more in every part,
Stealing into souls and freezing
  Will and hope in every heart.

"Furious storm once more dispersed us;
  Israel rendered free and great,
Into lands of cruel despots
  Went to face a bondman's fate."

"Grand-sire, dear, why does this winter
  Seem so endless, then?"--I sighed--
And two crystal tears were trembling
  In his eyes when he replied.

"Yes, my boy, it seems so endless,
  But it cannot, will not be;
Israel will not slave forever,
  One day, child, he will be free.

"In his soul will re-awaken
  Courage, will, and pride, and might;
Freedom's sunrise must needs follow
  Israel's starless exile night.

"But till then, ere spring's arrival--
  For the winter's steps are slow--
Pesach is a sweet remembrance
  Of a spring of long ago."

Israel, my people,
God's greatest riddle,
Will thy solution
Ever be told

Fought - never conquered,
Bent - never broken,
Mortal - immortal,
Youthful, though old.

Egypt enslaved thee,
Babylon crushed thee,
Rome led thee captive,
Homeless thy head.

Where are those nations
Mighty and fearsome
Thou hast survived them,
They are long dead.

Nations keep coming,
Nations keep going,
Passing like shadows,
Wiped off the earth.

Thou an eternal
Witness remainest,
Watching their burial,
Watching their birth.

Pray, who revealed thee
Heaven's great secret:
Death and destruction,
Thus to defy

Suffering torture,
Stake, inquisition -
Prithee, who taught thee
Never to die

Ay, and who gave thee
Faith, deep as ocean,
Strong as the rock-hills,
Fierce as the sun

Hated and hunted,
Ever thou wand'rest,
Bearing a message:
God is but one!

Pray, has thy saga
Likewise an ending,
As its beginning
Glorious of old

Israel, my people,
God's greatest riddle,
Will thy solution
Ever be told