On Christmas day I sit and think, Thoughts white as snow, and black as ink. My nearest kinsman, turned a knave, Robbed me of all that I could save. When he was gone, and I was poor, His sister yelped me from her door. The Robin sings his Christmas song, And no bird has a sweeter tongue. God bless them all -- my wife so true, And pretty Robin Redbreast too. God bless my kinsman, far away, And give his sister joy this day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AIRY NOTHINGS. FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ON AN ANNIVERSARY by JOHN MILLINGTON SYNGE THE DREAM THAT CRACKED A WHIP by FRANCES AIRTH GRAY MOOD by MARJORIE AKERMAN B. FALSE FRIEND by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM |