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Famous Short Christmas Poems. Short Christmas Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Christmas Poems. Short Christmas Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Christmas short poems

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

 
by Hilaire Belloc

Lines For A Christmas Card

 May all my enemies go to hell,
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel


by Emily Dickinson

As Sleigh Bells seem in summer

 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer
Or Bees, at Christmas show --
So fairy -- so fictitious
The individuals do
Repealed from observation --
A Party that we knew --
More distant in an instant
Than Dawn in Timbuctoo.


by Mother Goose

Little Jack Horner

 

Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner,
    Eating of Christmas pie:
He put in his thumb,
And pulled out a plum,
    And said, "What a good boy am I!"


by Robert William Service

The Sceptic

 My Father Christmas passed away
When I was barely seven.
At twenty-one, alack-a-day, I lost my hope of heaven.
Yet not in either lies the curse: The hell of it's because I don't know which loss hurt the worse -- My God or Santa Claus.


by Robert Herrick

THE CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS DAY

 Kindle the Christmas brand, and then
Till sunset let it burn;
Which quench'd, then lay it up again,
Till Christmas next return.
Part must be kept, wherewith to teend The Christmas log next year; And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend Can do no mischief there.


by Ellis Parker Butler

Merry Christmas And Happy New Year!

 Little cullud Rastus come a-skippin’ down de street,
A-smilin’ and a-grinnin’ at every one he meet;
My, oh! He was happy! Boy, but was he gay!
Wishin’ “Merry Chris’mus” an’ “Happy New-Year’s Day”!
Wishin’ that his wishes might every one come true—
And—bless your dear heart, honey,—I wish the same to you!


by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Moonless darkness stands between

 Moonless darkness stands between.
Past, the Past, no more be seen! But the Bethlehem-star may lead me To the sight of Him Who freed me From the self that I have been.
Make me pure, Lord: Thou art holy; Make me meek, Lord: Thou wert lowly; Now beginning, and alway: Now begin, on Christmas day.


by Robert Herrick

CEREMONY UPON CANDLEMAS EVE

 Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and misletoe;
Down with the holly, ivy, all
Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas hall;
That so the superstitious find
No one least branch there left behind;
For look, how many leaves there be
Neglected there, maids, trust to me,
So many goblins you shall see.


by Emily Dickinson

Before the ice is in the pools

 Before the ice is in the pools --
Before the skaters go,
Or any check at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow --

Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
Will arrive to me!

What we touch the hems of
On a summer's day --
What is only walking
Just a bridge away --

That which sings so -- speaks so --
When there's no one here --
Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?


by Richard Brautigan

Love Poem

 There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm while she married over and over, taking you along.
How could it work, when all those years she stored her widowed heart as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are, afraid of blood, your women like one brick wall after another.


by Vachel Lindsay

This Section is a Christmas Tree

 THIS section is a Christmas tree: 
Loaded with pretty toys for you.
Behold the blocks, the Noah's arks, The popguns painted red and blue.
No solemn pine-cone forest-fruit, But silver horns and candy sacks And many little tinsel hearts And cherubs pink, and jumping-jacks.
For every child a gift, I hope.
The doll upon the topmost bough Is mine.
But all the rest are yours.
And I will light the candles now.


by Ben Jonson

To Groom Idiot


LVIII.
 ? TO GROOM IDIOT.
  
IDIOT, last night, I pray'd thee but forbear
To read my verses ;  now I must to hear :
For offering with thy smiles my wit to grace,
Thy ignorance still laughs in the wrong place.

And so my sharpness thou no less disjoints,
Than thou didst late my sense, losing my points.

So have I seen, at Christmas-sports, one lost,
And hood-wink'd, for a man embrace a post.



by Rg Gregory

bad for ears

 the song wasn't up to the task
of getting through the double-glazing
into the ears pressed on the outside pane
the rest of their bodies had faded away but
the ears were straining still towards the music
in order to know the good times being had in the room
night fell the cold grew and the lights went out but
the ears hung around believing in music until
they froze and dropped to the ground like
slugs that had missed out on the seasons
it was a bad christmas for ears