Christmas poetry czyli świąteczne wierszyki po angielsku

WISHING
(A Child at the Crib)--

It's very cold tonight, dear God,
I wish You had a coat
Of thickest fur
To keep You warm.
But, Jesus, you have her-
You Mother dear--
To hold You tight
With her arms
This Christmas night.
(Mary to the Child)
Tis you are cold, dear little one;
Your feet are wet with snow
And you have come a long, long way;
Jesus has told me so.
A coat of fur you wished for Him,
But greater will He do.
My Babe, the very Lamb of God,
Will give Himself to you.


Come Home For Christmas

Unlock the door of your heart -
Enter the gentleness within.
Open the window of your soul -
Breathe in the season of miracles.
No matter how far you've traveled,
It's time to come home now,
Where Christmas abounds in love.


Splendor

Ebony eve, silvered streets.
Lavender mist and icicle tears.
Visions of velvet, crimson and jade.
Golden glints in topaz thoughts.
Color it Christmas. Give it with love.

Christmas Everywhere

EVERYWHERE, everywhere, Christmas tonight!
Christmas in lands of the fir-tree and pine,
Christmas in lands of the palm-tree and vine,
Christmas where snow peaks stand solemn and white,
Christmas where cornfields stand sunny and bright.
Christmas where children are hopeful and gay,
Christmas where old men are patient and gray,
Christmas where peace, like a dove in his flight,
Broods o're brave men in the thick of the fight;
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight!
For the Christ-child who comes is the Master of all;
No palace too great, no cottage too small.

THE SHEPHERD BOY'S GIFT

When near to her at Bethlehem
I knelt at Christmastide,
"There is no pillow for thy Son,
No pillow, Lady, for thy Son,"
I said to her, and sighed.
But when I softly turned away
Ant tiptoed from His bed,
The Lady Mary smiled at me,
The Lady Mary smiled to see
(I'd tucked it in so carefully)
My heart beneath His head.

Christmas Comes

Christmas comes, he comes, he somes,
Ushered in with a rain of plums,
Hollies in the windows greet him,
Schools come driving post to meet him,
Gifts precede him bells proclaim him.
English Traditional

When I Found Out 'bout Santa Claus

I first found out 'bout Santa Claus when I was six or seven
Still, I held out from letting on 'til long after eleven
But not for fear of getting less, or growing up too fast
And neither to hold on to this enchantment of the past
The memories of Christmases so many years ago
Include much more than parties, gifts, or playing in the snow
Although I knew . . I think, as I recall those years at last
Of something so much more than this enchantment of the past
Confused - I didn't feel a bit, or question other truths
Quite obvious that this was simply merriment of youth
Passed down to each and every generation from the last
In hopes of all enduring this enchantment of the past
The telltale signs, the gifts, the parties, playing in the snow
The Christmas decorations, songs, and faces all aglow
While these remain fond memories, traditionally steadfast
I now held reverently to this enchantment of the past
And so again today I've found 'bout Santa Claus once more
Though oftentimes I reminisce of Christmases before
They haven't changed at all, except the roles have been reversed
Continuing tradition from so many years rehearsed.

CHRISTMAS

Christmas has come, let's eat and drink---
This is no time to sit and think;
Farewell to study, books and pen,
And welcome to all kinds of men.
Let all men now get rid of care,
Then 'tis the same, no matter which
Of us is poor, or which is rich.
Let each man have enough this day,
Since those that can are glad to pay;
There's nothing now too rich or good
For poor men, not the King's own food.
Now like a singing bird my feet
Touch earth, and I must drink and eat.
Welcome to all men: I'll not care
What any of my fellows wear;
We'll not let cloth divide our souls,
They'll swim stark naked in the bowls.
Welcome, poor beggar: I'll not see
That hand of yours dislodge a flea,
While you sit at my side and beg,
Or right foot scratching your left leg.
Farewell restraint: we will not now
Measure the ale our brains allow,
But drink as much as we can hold.
We'll count no change when we spend gold;
This is not time to save, but spend
To give for nothing, not to lend.
Let foes make friends: let them forget
The mischief-making dead that fret
the living with complaint like this --
"He wronged us once, hate him and his.."
Christmas has come; let every man
Eat, drink, be merry all he can.
Ale's my best mark, but if port wine
Or whisky's yours -- let it be mine;
No matter what lies in the bowls,
We'll make it rich with our own sould.
Farewell to study, books and pen,
And welcome to all kinds of men.