Long years ago in London town The bigots cut the Maypole down, Where "Merry England," hand-in-hand, Danced round and round it in the Strand. They made a crime of Christmas Day; And passed strict laws 'gainst being gay; They simply couldn't bear to see A vestige of felicity. To wear a happy morning face Was an indictable disgrace, And mince pie and the Christmas tree Meant nothing but idolatry. And so it was the English beckoned 'Cross Dover Straits for Charles the Second -- They'd had enough of saints, poor sinners, And ate in peace their Christmas dinners. But still the same sour race survives, Hating the joy in human lives; Making, by law, all merriment Less than one-half of one per cent. Our laughter and our love must be Whispered, lest they should hear or see; The Federal officer will soon Keep watch on lovers 'neath the moon -- A kiss that lasts for half a minute Must have too high percentage in it. Yet, though they ban the Christmas bowl, They cannot down the Christmas soul; Nor Bolsheviki nor near-beer Can rob us of our Christmas cheer. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GREEN RIVER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT by EUGENE FIELD TO DEAN-BOURN, A RUDE RIVER IN DEVON, BY WHICH ... HE LIVED by ROBERT HERRICK LONE DOG by IRENE RUTHERFORD MCLEOD A WORKING PARTY by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE LONG HILL by SARA TEASDALE |