Christmas poem, thoughts, on the season

toonertoo

toonertoo

Most Awesome Dog
Staff member
This poem just deeply affects me. Im not really into literature and poetry, but this poem always gets me

redo, recopy, repost, it brings comfort to me

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost 1874–1963 Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from
 
satellitedriver

satellitedriver

Moderator
Toon, this is one of my favorite poems.
Many times I have used this quote when people ask me why I am working so late.
I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep
The beauty of this poem is that I can relate to it.
Often, on back country roads I just have to stop and gaze at the night beauty above and around me.
One or two minutes of standing still and looking at a crescent moon rise thru the pine trees refreshes me.
One or two minutes of just looking at the milky way spread from horizon to horizon reminds me of how small I am.
Then that voice in my head says,
"Miles to go and promises to keep."

It brings comfort to me also, Toon.
Thanks for sharing,
Steve

 
bottomups

bottomups

Bad Moon Risen'
Growing up, I had literally read this poem THOUSANDS of times. My mom had a copy of it hanging in one of our bathrooms on the wall right across from the crapper!
 
dilligaf

dilligaf

IN VINO VERITAS
satellitedriver said:
Toon, this is one of my favorite poems.
Many times I have used this quote when people ask me why I am working so late.
I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep
The beauty of this poem is that I can relate to it.
Often, on back country roads I just have to stop and gaze at the night beauty above and around me.
One or two minutes of standing still and looking at a crescent moon rise thru the pine trees refreshes me.
One or two minutes of just looking at the milky way spread from horizon to horizon reminds me of how small I am.
Then that voice in my head says,
"Miles to go and promises to keep."

It brings comfort to me also, Toon.
Thanks for sharing,
Steve
Click to expand...
And yours does as well, my friend. :happy2:
 
satellitedriver

satellitedriver

Moderator
This is the quintessential Christmas poem.
Twas the Night before Christmas Poem
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"​
Every Christmas Eve, when I have finished my route, I utter these words, to myself.
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night"
At that point in time is when I truly feel the Christmas spirit.
 
brownmonster

brownmonster

Man of Great Wisdom
My friend summed up the season last weekend while looking forward to all of the family get togethers. I wish I could go to bed on the 23rd and wake up on the 27th.
 
dilligaf

dilligaf

IN VINO VERITAS
satellitedriver said:
This is the quintessential Christmas poem.
Twas the Night before Christmas Poem
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"MERRY Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"​
Every Christmas Eve, when I have finished my route, I utter these words, to myself.
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night"
At that point in time is when I truly feel the Christmas spirit.
Click to expand...

It is except one minor error. It's Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
 
Top