& NATHAN GILMORE
Nathan's Introduction
HEARD a verse on Christmas Day and cried
“O give me, please, some dear, longed-for respite!
The Yuletide’s full of doggerels; Beside
I’ve far too much to fiddle with tonight!”
These are the troubles of these days:
Customers converge in streams unending;
That peculiar malevolent modern malaise
The woes of want and waste portending.
I hope you find, as happily I did
A peaceful corner to ponder in;
A moment where the noise subsided,
And let a sense of calmness wander in.
May these verses’ brief interjection
Occasion pause for still reflection.
Sam's Introduction
T’S December now—for awhile I’ve thought
of Sonnets and Christmas put together;
So here’s twelve new, plus a few, which we’ve brought
To read in silence, or when you gather
With friends and family before you feast;
We hope they flow easily on the tongue,
And give you a small picture of the past,
When Christmas was called Christ’s Mass; and at least
Lend some fair sense of lyric and of song,
Prayerful and profane; and hope they cast—
'Mid pendant spirit of the turtledove
In glad conversation with those you love,
Bolstered with a cup to cheerily sip—
A good spell on your evening fellowship.
SONNET 1 · The Birth of Christ
"Moments After Leaving the Womb" · Shakespearean · by Nathan & Sam
BRIGHT star broken out of a dark tomb
Now grasps his mother’s finger in His hand,
The Lord to whom the earth belongs, and whom
The host of Cherubim did once command.
From womb to the world’s open air He cried,
Where formerly no sign of life appeared—
A barren womb where life had been denied,
Till Heaven to the mortal realm drew near.
This night the world sings with a new breath,
The Tree of Life blossoms forth in a cave;
His birth breaks asunder the bonds of death,
The dark shadow flees from before His face.
Today is our dancing day, o golden morn!
Dance for joy o mountains, for Christ is born!
SONNET 2 · Elegy for Saint Nicholas
"Bishop of Myra and Lycia" · Shakespearean · by Nathan
E was an old man, as he always is,
Hair silvered like the snow he’d never seen.
Hunched at the crude-carved table, rolling his
Milk-white eyes at the deacon who cleaned
The spittle from his lips, thin and cracked,
And porridge from his cheeks, which were never red.
A churchman had been earlier, cleared and packed
The parsonage: Books of canon law, a loaf of bread
For any poor passerby. How times had changed!
He was not this jolly elf! Weapon-like, he’d wielded charity,
Struck down the executioner’s sword, loved the estranged;
Slapped the heretic Arian’s face, spoke for the verity
Of Christ and His truth. Those old bones still
Heal human hurts, and to men good will.
SONNET 3 · Medieval
"The Bishop's Call" · Shakespearean · by Nathan & Sam
HE Saxon lord retains his noble court,
Long men discuss their tales of famous deeds.
The bishop grave his dreadful king exhorts
To clasp the fullness of the Christian creed.
“Like any man the world at length grows old,
Long-stretched lineages broken in a heap,
But the Almighty Father sent us a bold
King and divine, a shepherd for His sheep.
From high affairs of earthly kingdom proud,
Turn now thy gold-touched brow to things below—
Hear the words holy angels sing aloud,
And hold as truth what mystic sages know:
That once all majesty in a manger lay,
For Jesus Christ our Lord was born this day!”
SONNET 4 · Chaucerian
"A Middle English Christmas" · Petrarcan · by Sam
ELL I know my sin like a well is deep
All my days spent in plummet to the ground,
Singing songs unworthy of graceful sound,
But weeping now, my heart doth make a leap
Full high from low valley to mountain steep,
Hearing the song of those joyful rounds,
Singing Christ’s Mass, of Holy Child found,
Who in fastness in the soft manger sleeps.
So let us rejoice of His birth today,
Amid the greenery and Greek incense;
Bow our heads when the priest’s bright robe far
Comes near with the book of gospels to pray;
For joy that our sins are made recompensed;
Remember the gladsome light of His bright star.
SONNET 5 · Tudor
“Sonnet of the Magi” · Wyatt's 'Italian' Sonnet · by Nathan
OW oft had I, with pagan eyes and proud,
Gazed through a glass of bronze and crystal made;
Searched silken maps, sought divers doctors’ aid,
And listened to the deep prophetic crowd.
How much had they with silent thought and loud
Prophecies their secret fears allayed,
And sought salvation thus, and were dismayed,
And yet another futile monarch crowned.
How then, with what high joy and great surprise
And deep delight I chanced upon that Star,
How near its truth, its orb surpassing far,
Did burst upon my disbelieving eyes.
Now I believe, and here my search is done—
For setting, one fair star reveals the Sun.
SONNET 6 · Elizabethan
“Addressed to the Sovereign, Elizabeth I” · Spenserian · by Sam
OME philosophers say with great disdayne
Our age is blacked and all our vertues dulled
Compared to kings in Histories contained
Whose courts were filled with reuerence old.
But Truth illspoke is in letters of gold,
Good Christmas hidden in too heauie light,
A false brightnesse blindeth us to that bold
Manner in which Our Lord was borne that night
When bright starre to babe shepheards turned their sight.
How-like they seem to people of todaie,
Who in reuerence take full great delight
In small hours to the Holy Childe pray;
How-like you, o Queene, intimately closed,
But to Heauen thy fruitfull prayers exposed.
SONNET 7 · American Colonial
“The Two Babes” · Rhyming-Clare · by Nathan
LITTLE Babe appeared upon one morn
In ignorance and error was he born
His mother rued to see his folly low,
His father wept to see his mortal woe.
The child aged and sinfully he grew,
And did all that an honest man should rue:
Deceived, and stole, and murder’d, and withal
Did all that is man’s lot, since our first fall.
And when that Babe had all his licence spent,
Some inward Voice did call him to repent.
Another little Babe appear’d one Day,
And did all righteousness fulfill alway.
‘Twas Christmas he was born, our Sacrifice,
And was that Babe by name our Jesus Christ.
SONNET 8 · Handelian
"A Musical Evening" · Terza Rima · by Sam
AND now my day’s work is done for good!
Clothing bins shuttled through the Laundrie Door,
So I can shuffle for a bite of food.
Master’s dinner bell rings—I shall ignore.
It’s Mister Handel’s big concert tonight—
The Hospitall Singers sing for the poor.
Sweet voices, heavenly, for ears delight,
And most for the Hallelujah Chorus—
We stand, like the king, in that hall most bright!
(I spot two friends, Dorothea and Morris,
Brights stars in the singing firmament), THEN—
To home, through creaky door (still the chorus),
To bed. (Long whiles I hear violins
Through my pillow, like little dancing men).
SONNET 9 · Keatsian
"A Winter Ode" · Shakespearean · by Sam
HEAR a conversation between the clouds
And think not Zeus’ anger hails me low,
But Giving Nature opens winter’s shroud,
Fills the fields white again with frisking snow.
Bitter blows the wind, driving us indoors,
And warmth, once ill-regarded, returns a friend;
What mean these green boughs now, but more,
Near the fire, where shivers meet their mend?
And Christmas? Cheerful carols on the mat,
From friends who meet us across the drift,
Crossing, then invited, to our habitat,
With hidden stars smiling on opened gifts.
These gifts! These timbers! These warm walls of stone!
Given with affection, given without loan.
SONNET 10 · A Dickens Christmas
Imitating Dickens' Poetry · Shakespearean · by Nathan
LITTLE town like yours and mine lies here;
The denizens their daily work fulfill.
The Baker greets the Barrister with cheer;
The Cobbler hails the Seamstress with goodwill.
The Parson looks out from his windowsill
And breathes a prayer over his little band.
His heart with holy gratitude doth fill—
He stops a grateful tear with trembling hand!
“O! Bless the innocents of this Thy land!
And keep them ever thus in purity.
All plans of ill and evil countermand
And grant them Thy own surety!”
The parson wipes his face upon his sleeve
And lights the final taper—Christmas Eve.
SONNET 11 · Christmas, 1950
"An Oxford Reply to the Winter Ode" · Shakespearean · by Sam
N the winter frost we walk and hear carols,
Mixing new songs with those we’ve forgot;
We put on heavy coats, other apparels,
And snow becomes Christmas. It is not.
For there are countries where wind blisters out
With clinging sands—but Christmas must go on;
Churches fill with gladness (there is no doubt),
But Nature, rarely having watered, yawns.
In the Coptic churches, far from Oxford,
Far from Rome, they intone the birth of Christ;
It is Egypt after all, most assured,
Which was his home—a cave of immense price.
His birth! That gift! The night the bright star shone…
Given with affection, given without loan.
SONNET 12 · Christmas, 1985
"A Lullaby" · Modern · by Nathan
HEY had traveled, footsore, tired, cold.
The last sandwich split two hours since,
And stumbled, mumbling thanks, into the old
Motel 6, under the jaundiced light. She winced
As she stepped from the gray Dodge Colt, womb-weighed,
Heavily to the cold asphalt, miles from the hospital;
He helped her into the lime-green lobby, prayed,
And breathed a sigh of relief. Someone’s abuela was on call;
She dropped her clorox and the mops, kept a rag to wipe the sweat
From a teen girl’s glistening brow; on the flimsy pull-out couch
Waited out the waves and held her hand. Her shift long since over; yet
She waited there. Her rough hands held him first— her words spilled out
Into the ash-strewn, run-down room. He would hear her song:
Duermete, duermete, pedazo de mi corazon.
APPENDIX 1
TYPES OF SONNETS- Rhyming/Clare — 7 Rhyming Couplets
- Petrarcan-Double-Couplet Sonnet — ABAB CDECDE FFGG
APPENDIX 2
SONNETEERS:
‡MEDIEVAL
‡TUDOR & ELIZABETHAN
‡STUART
‡ROMANTIC
Percy Shelley (“Ozymandias”)
‡EDWARDIAN
G.K. Chesterton (“Sonnet to a Stilton Cheese”)
‡MODERN & CONTEMPORARY
SELECTED CHRISTMAS POEMS
“The House of Christmas” — Gilbert Keith Chesterton
“The Wise Men” — Gilbert Keith Chesterton
“Christ’s Nativity” — Henry Vaughan
“On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity” — John Milton
“The Burning Babe” — Robert Southell, SJ
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