Christmas: A Last Few Thoughts For 2009

This morning it was -3 and the world about us was literally snow white, a potentially beautiful vista, spoiled by the gritting lorry. Each time its orange flashing lights have passed the window, I have been beside myself, complaining, and thinking that there must be something in the much maligned European Human Rights Act, which means, that I don't have to put up with gritted roads. And when Jenny protests at my point of view, I fight back: "The world is in a terrible state", I tell her; "all production needs to stop; parents and children need to be house-bound for at least a week; and we need to be forced to get to know our neighbours, even if it means trudging through the snow to give to, or get from them, those missing ingredients necessary for survival. Or better still, we should be able to fire the items across the street from upstairs windows". And I don't know why I am alone in my point of view, as snow transforms the world: there is something deeply tranquil in it, which is why no hostility whatsoever should be offered to the gentle flakes as they glide to earth; NOT EVEN BY GRITTING LORRIES! And when the snow has gone and we are refreshed, and have resumed our "normal" lives, the world will be a happier and more productive place. But as I know that I am not going to win this argument; enough. Instead here are a few reflections on Christmas, by myself, and the poets T. S. Eliot; Laurie Lee; and John Betjeman, in that order. And come to think of it, John Betjeman, in all probability, would have been a kindred spirit, when it comes to gritting lorries. For as I said of him, in an earlier draft of this blog: "I never fail to warm to the poetry of John Betjeman: it has a quite unique languid and earthy feel to it, while at the same time, being subtle, clever, and deeply humane".

An Antique Christmas

Cormac:
"I'll pay by Mastercard from the UK
And I would like it in time for Christmas."

Dianne:
"I'm so sorry Cormac, it was sold last week."

Cormac:
"How about GL108 or GL106?"

Dianne:
"The green and clear jug is nice;
The Basket is nice too, but I prefer the jug.
The basket I will dig out
As it will be packed down somewhere.
Have a think and let me know."

Cormac:
"It sounds as though you enjoy your job;
And the offer of a discount is much appreciated.
The add says that the jug, "is crying out for flowers"
But the basket, (to me), seems the most suitable.
But whichever you decide - I will have".

Dianne:
"Cormac, I searched high and low but failed to find the basket.
It isn't where it's supposed to be.
I'll look again on Saturday.
PS. The glass jug is here, I have that."

Cormac:
"I think my preference is for the basket.
It is more unusual than the jug.
But if you can't turn it up tomorrow, I'll settle for the jug.
Your website should carry a health warning: lots of lovely stuff there."

Dianne:
"Cormac, apologies for the delay in answering.
Only the basket wasn't found until 5 pm this evening,
TRUE! It is delightful, nicer than the jug.
It is hand blown by Murano. Your wife will love it."

Cormac:
"You're an Angel! (From a distance at least.)"
______

   Journey of the Magi

   "A COLD coming we had of it
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey;
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

   Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation,
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And there trees on the low sky.
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

   All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down.
This we were led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death.,
But thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

_____


 Christmas Landscape

Tonight the wind gnaws
with teeth of glass,
the jackdaw shivers
in caged branches of iron,
the stars have talons.

There is hunger in the mouth
of vole and badger,
silver agonies of breath
in the nostril of the fox,
ice on the rabbit's paw.

Tonight has no moon,
no food for the pilgrim;
the fruit tree is bare,
the rose bush a thorn
and the ground is bitter with stones.

But the mole sleeps, and the hedgehog
lies curled in a womb of leaves,
the bean and the wheat-seed
hug their germs in the earth
and the stream moves under the ice.

Tonight there is no moon,
but a new star opens
like a silver trumpet over the dead.
Tonight in a nest of ruins
the blessed babe is laid.

And the fir tree warms to a bloom of candles,
the child lights his lantern,
stares at his tinselled toy;
our hearts and hearths
smoulder with live ashes.

In the blood of our grief
the cold earth is suckled,
in our agony the womb
convulses its seed,
in the cry of anguish
the child's first breath is born.

______

            Christmas

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
   The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
   Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hooker's Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
   And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
   The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
"The Church looks nice" on Christmas Day.

Provincial public houses blaze
   And Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze
   Where paper decorations hang.
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says "Merry Christmas to you all."

And London shops on Christmas Eve
   Are strung with silver bells and flowers
And hurrying clerks the City leave
  To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
   And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad,
   And Christmas morning bells say "Come!"
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true? And is it true,
   The most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
   A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?

And is it true? For if it is,
   No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
   The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant.

No love that in a family dwells,
   No carroling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
   Can with this simple truth compare -
That God was Man in Palestine
And lives to-day in Bread and Wine.

_____

© Cormac McCloskey
(Poems by: Eliot, Lee and Betjeman, excluded)

Journey of the Magi
by T. S. Eliot
from The Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse
Clarendon Press - Oxford
ISBN 0 18 812137 7

Christmas Landscape
by Laurie Lee
Taken from the web: Here

Christmas
by John Betjeman
from The Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse
(as above).

Note: This blog, "Christmas: A Last Few Thoughts For 2009 was first published on Windows Live Spaces, by me, on 20th December 2009