Christmas Every Day

Ring out wild bells to the wild sky, 
The flying cloud, the frosty light: 
The Year is dying in the night; 
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new, 
Ring, happy bells, across the snow: 
The Year is going, let him go; 
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly-dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life, 
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, 
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right, 
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old, 
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land, 
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

“Tonight’s December thirty-first,
Something is about to burst.
The clock is crouching, dark and small,
Like a time bomb in the hall.
Hark, it’s midnight, children dear.
Duck! Here comes another year!”

— Ogden Nash

WHAT THOMAS AN BUILE SAID IN A PUB
translated from the Irish by James Stephens

I saw God. Do you doubt it?
Do you dare to doubt it?
I saw the Almighty Man. His hand
Was resting on a mountain, and
He looked upon the World and all about it;
I saw him plainer than you see me now,
You mustn’t doubt it.

He was not satisfied;
His look was all dissatisfied.
His beard swung on a wind far out of sight
Behind the world’s curve, and there was light
Most fearful from His forehead, and He sighed,
“That star went always wrong, and from the start
I was dissatisfied.”

He lifted up his hand
I say he heaved a dreadful hand
Over the spinning Earth. Then I said, “Stay,
You must not strike it, God; I’m in the way
And I will never move from where I stand.”
He said, “Dear Child, I feared that you were dead.”
And stayed his hand.

Listen!



Listen, 
if stars are lit


it means – there is someone who needs it.


It means – someone wants them to be,


that someone deems those specks of spit


magnificent.


And overwrought,


in the swirls of afternoon dust,


he bursts in on God,
 afraid he might be already late.


In tears,


he kisses God’s sinewy hand


and begs him to guarantee


that there will definitely be a star.


He swears


he won’t be able to stand that starless ordeal.


Later,


He wanders around, worried,


but outwardly calm.


And to everyone else, he says:


‘Now,


it’s all right.


You are no longer afraid,


are you?

‘
Listen,


if stars are lit,


it means – there is someone who needs it.

It means it is essential


that every evening 
at least one star should ascend


over the crest of the building.

–Vladimir Mayakovsky 1914

As you set out for Ithaka

hope the voyage is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians and Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians and Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope the voyage is a long one.

May there be many a summer morning when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you come into harbors seen for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you are destined for.

But do not hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you are old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you have gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you would not have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

For life, larger music

    wilder laughter

       louder drums

  greater struggles

       shorter sorrows

    deeper passions

       stranger dreams

For freedom, brighter magic

    stronger witches

        endless nights

  unknown allies

        slower dances

    grand delusions

        deadly fights

For blood, more mysteries

    crueler tyrants

        harder choices

  faster rhythms

        higher voices

And if you’re like me, choose what remains,

    more fear

        deeper danger

  and death as the truest advisor.

Willis Eschenbach

“One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don’t clean it up too quickly.”

— Andy Rooney