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Christmas Poems
Here is a cute and warm collection
of Christmas Poems for those a getting a little sentimental on the
joyous occasion! These selected Christmas Poetry include poems by
popular and not so popular authors. The idea behind the selection of
these poems was to make you realize the beauty of Christmas festival and
its real meaning. Share these free Christmas Poems with loved ones and
have a very Merry Christmas.
In case you too have composed a beautiful Christmas poem and wish to share it with the world, here is a warm invitation from Christmas-Day.Org. Send in your poem to us, if it gets selected your poem will be published on this page along with your name!! List of Christmas Poems Christmas Bells Christmas in India 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Christmas Is a Time for Love and Fun I'm Your Christmas Tree, All Brightly Lit The Twelve Days of Christmas That Midnight Hour The Gift Of God Bethlehem And Calvary Birth of Jesus Man pauses but a moment to honor a birth. Yet, were he to stay longer, were he to look deeper, He could see Creation. The birth would still be there, An archetypal pattern for the millions who are always moving forward On a transcendental journey of themselves. Merry Christmas 2010 By: Aline Christmas Bells 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! 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!' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Christmas in India DIM dawn behind the tamerisks-the sky is saffron-yellow- As the women in the village grind the corn, And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow That the Day, the staring Easter Day, is born. Oh the white dust on the highway! Oh the stenches in the byway! Oh the clammy fog that hovers over earth! And at Home they're making merry 'neath the white and scarlet berry- What part have India's exiles in their mirth? Full day begind the tamarisks-the sky is blue and staring- As the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke, And they bear One o'er the field-path, who is past all hope or caring, To the ghat below the curling wreaths of smoke. Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a brother lowly- Call on Rama-he may hear, perhaps, your voice! With our hymn-books and our psalters we appeal to other altars, And to-day we bid "good Christian men rejoice!" High noon behind the tamarisks-the sun is hot above us- As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan. They will drink our healths at dinner-those who tell us how they love us, And forget us till another year be gone! Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh the Heimweh, ceaseless, aching! Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain! Youth was cheap-wherefore we sold it. Gold was good-we hoped to hold it, And to-day we know the fulness of our gain. Grey dusk behind the tamarisks-the parrots fly together- As the sun is sinking slowly over Home; And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a lifelong tether. That drags us back how'er so far we roam. Hard her service, poor her payment-she in ancient, tattered raiment- India, she the grim Stepmother of our kind. If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's shrine we enter, The door is shut-we may not look behind. Black night behind the tamarisks-the owls begin their chorus - As the conches from the temple scream and bray. With the fruitless years behind us, and the hopeless years before us, Let us honour, O my brother, Christmas Day! Call a truce, then, to our labors-let us feast with friends and neighbors, And be merry as the custom of our caste; For if "faint and forced the laughter," and if sadness follow after, We are richer by one mocking Christmas past. by Rudyard Kipling 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (or A Visit from St. Nicholas) '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 Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. When out on the roof 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 shutter, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below, when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it 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, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky so up to the house-top 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 peddler 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!" by Clement Clarke Moore Christmas Is a Time for Love and Fun Christmas is a time for love and fun, A time to reshape souls and roots and skies, A time to give your heart to everyone Freely, like a rich and lavish sun, Like a burning star to those whose lonely sighs Show need of such a time for love and fun. For children first, whose pain is never done, Whose bright white fire of anguish never dies, It's time to give your heart to every one, That not one angel fall, to hatred won For lack of ears to listen to her cries, Or arms to carry him towards love and fun, Or friends to care what happens on the run To adult life, where joy or sadness lies. It's time to give your heart to everyone, For God loves all, and turns His back on none, Good or twisted, ignorant or wise. Christmas is a time for love and fun, A time to give your heart to everyone. I'm Your Christmas Tree, All Brightly Lit I'm your Christmas tree, all brightly lit, Hung with angels, colored balls, and elves. Underneath my boughs your presents sit, If you've behaved yourselves. Why must we wait till early Christmas morn To open up our brand-new games and toys? Why gifts for us the day that Christ was born If we're good girls and boys? Now listen to your Christmas tree: I'm wise In all the ways of faith that you must know. I'm here because of what I symbolize: Green through ice and snow. There is a world beyond what we can see Where, by grace of God, we can receive God's greatest gift: to live eternally, If only we believe. Eternal life is what God gave to you In sending down His son to live on Earth. This was His gift, so Santa brings gifts, too, To celebrate Christ's birth. The baby Jesus got gifts on this day Because, like any child, He loved to play. And so God wants to share this special joy With every girl and boy. Believe God loves you as your parents do, And takes great joy in giving gifts to you. Live well and love, and evergreen like me, You'll live eternally. The Twelve Days of Christmas The first day of Christmas My true love sent to me A partridge in a pear tree The second day of Christmas My true love sent to me Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. The third day of Christmas My true love sent to me Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. The fourth day of Christmas My true love sent to me Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. The fifth day of Christmas My true love sent to me Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree The sixth day of Christmas My true love sent to me Six geese a-laying, Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree The seventh day of Christmas My true love sent to me Seven swans a-swimming Six geese a-laying, Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree The eighth day of Christmas My true love sent to me Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. On the ninth day of Christmas My true love sent to me Nine drummers drumming, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. The tenth day of Christmas My true love sent to me Ten pipers piping, Nine drummers drumming, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. The eleventh day of Christmas My true love sent to me Eleven ladies dancing, Ten pipers piping, Nine drummers drumming, Eight maids a-milking Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. The twelfth day of Christmas My true love sent to me Twelve lords a-leaping, Eleven ladies dancing, Ten pipers piping, Nine drummers drumming, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five gold rings, Four colly birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, and A partridge in a pear tree. That Midnight Hour The Virgin Mother kneels upon the floor And holds her baby in her arm, Her heart is gladder than her lips can say, To keep her new born baby snug and warm, A babe more sweet and fair and dear Than any rose bud in the bright sunshine, Whose little eyes look straight into her own, O, blessed maid, God's son is also thine. Twas holy midnight, when He came to earth: As pours a sun ray through a limpid glass, Not leaving any mark upon its face; A drop of dew upon the fresh green grass, A little star that fell upon her lap, A cooing babe, that seeks her virgin breast. The hopes of all the sin-cursed world Upon this baby's eyelids rest. And ever since the midnight hour is holy, And millions of human hearts are stirred To wonderment and love for Him who came, To save the world, God's own incarnate Word. He came in darkness, He who was The Light, His godhead shone from clear blue baby eyes, The curse of earth's first sin was lifted then, That midnight hour reopened paradise. The Gift Of God There was seen a radiance Glowing one night Near the little maiden Mary In blue and white. "Lilies are not fairer, "Roses more red, Than the Child she sings to slumber," An angel said. So the shepherds ventured Through the white cold, And their eyes beheld the Infant, An hour old. Long they gazed and wondered, Awkward in awe, At the paramount perfection Within their straw. "Diamonds are but trifles! "Rubies no gem!" Cried the hearts that slaved for pittance Near Bethlehem. So it was forever, After the night When the little maiden Mary Wore blue and white. Bethlehem And Calvary Oh silent Bethlehem attend and see How gently Mary tends her new-born King: Mark with what reverence and ecstasy, Her humble virgin heart with joy will sing. See with what tenderness, she tucks within, Those coverlets, His tiny Hands and Feet, Oh, with what loving care she kisses Him, And smoothes the pillow for His Head so sweet. Oh silent Bethlehem, attend and see, Mary's most precious task is now complete! Oh silent Calvary, attend and see, How sadly Mary watches Christ, her King, Mark with what noble, patient sympathy, Her anguished mother heart meets sorrow's ring. Bravely she watches, her sweet face grows pale, And suffers other hands to "tuck Him in," His Hands and Feet they "tuck" beneath the nails, His kiss is gall; a token of man's sin. Oh, silent Calvary, attend and see, Man's most ignoble work is now complete! Merry Christmas, Baby The weather outside is cold We'll sit by the fireplace We'll cuddle and be cozy and stare at each other's face. Wait till we hear Christmas bells and the night is filled with peace Give each other a Christmas kiss And we'll fill our peace increase. It's a time of joy and love in our hearts to be filled On this very special night our love will be sealed. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Ahead, Baby By: Patrick U. Sunday Christmas
Poems
Christmas Bells | Christmas in India | 'Twas the Night Before Christmas | Christmas Is a Time for Love and Fun | I'm Your Christmas Tree, All Brightly Lit | The Twelve Days of Christmas | That Midnight Hour | The Gift Of God | Bethlehem And Calvary |
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