Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CHRISTMAS AND IRELAND by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON

Poem Explanation Poet Analysis

First Line: THE GOLDEN STARS GIVE WARMTHLESS FIRE
Subject(s): IRELAND;
To Miss Milligan.

The golden stars give warmthless fire ,

As weary Mary goes through night:
Sing Bethlehem next hit ! previous hit Sing Bethlehem next hit !
Her feet are torn by stone and briar;
You daughters of Jerusalem!
She hath no rest, no strength, no light:
Keep sorrow for Gethsemani,
O Mary, weary in the snow,
And mourning for Mount Calvary!
Remember Ireland's woe!
Why are your lids and lashes wet?

Here is no darkling Olivet.


O Joseph, sad for Mary's sake!

Look on our earthly Mother too:
Sing Bethlehem! Sing Bethlehem!
Let not the heart of Ireland break
You daughters of Jerusalem!
With agony, the ages through:
How should we previous hit sing of Bethlehem,
For Mary's love, love also thou
We, daughters of Jerusalem?
Ireland, and save her now!
We are the people of the Jews:

Our balms would soothe Him not, but bruise.


Harsh were the folk, and bitter stern,

At Bethlehem, that night of nights.
Ah, Calvary! ah, Calvary!
For you no cheering hearth shall burn:
We wretched women cry to thee:
We have no room here, you no rights.
We, daughters of Jerusalem;
O Mary and Joseph! hath not she,
And enemies of Bethlehem.
Ireland, been even as ye?
With faces cast upon the dust,

We weep those things, which do we must:


The ancient David's royal house

Was thine, Saint Joseph! wherefore she,
Our tears embitter Calvary,
Mary, thine Ever Virgin Spouse,
And water thee, Gethsemani!
To thine own city went with thee.
Nay, Bethlehem! Sing Bethlehem!
Behold! thy citizens disown
Poor daughters of Jerusalem!
The heir of David's throne!
You know not, what you do: but He

Will pardon you on Calvary.


Nay, more! The Very King of kings

Was with you, coming to his own:
Nay, more! The Very King of kings
They thrust Him forth to lowliest things;
Was with you, coming to his own:
The poor meek beasts of toil alone
They thrust Him forth to lowliest things;
Stood by, when came to piteous birth
The poor meek beasts of toil alone
The God of all the earth.
Stood by, when came to piteous birth

The God of all the earth.


And she, our Mother Ireland, knows

Insult, and infamies of wrong:
And she, our Mother Ireland, knows
Her innocent children clad with woes,
Insult, and infamies of wrong:
Her weakness trampled by the strong:
Her innocent children clad with woes,
And still upon her Holy Land
Her weakness trampled by the strong:
Her pitiless foemen stand.
And still upon her Holy Land

Her pitiless foemen stand.


From Manger unto Cross and Crown

Went Christ: and Mother Mary passed
From Manger unto Cross and Crown
Through Seven Sorrows, and sat down
Went Christ: and Mother Mary passed
Upon the Angel Throne at last.
Through Seven Sorrows, and sat down
Thence, Mary! to thine own Child pray,
Upon the Angel Throne at last.
For Ireland's hope this day!
Thence, Mary! to thine own Child pray,

For Ireland's hope this day!


She wanders amid winter still,

The dew of tears is on her face:
She wanders amid winter still,
Her wounded heart takes yet its fill
The dew of tears is on her face:
Of desolation and disgrace.
Her wounded heart takes yet its fill
God still is God! And through God she
Of desolation and disgrace.
Foreknows her joy to be.
God still is God! And through God she

Foreknows her joy to be.


The snows shall perish at the spring,

The flowers pour fragrance round her feet:
The snows shall perish at the spring,
Ah, Jesus! Mary! Joseph! bring
The flowers pour fragrance round her feet:
This mercy from the Mercy Seat!
Ah, Jesus! Mary! Joseph! bring
Send it, sweet King of Glory, born
This mercy from the Mercy Seat!
Humbly on Christmas Morn!
Send it, sweet King of Glory, born

Humbly on Christmas Morn!





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