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Sir John Betjeman reads his poem 'Christmas' (1954).
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A Merry Christmas to one and all!
Read by the author - former Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom. Here Sir John Betjeman invites us to share his wit and his deeply Christian sentiment. Recorded in 1980.
"How pleasant, then, to turn to John Betjeman, poet and human being. Human beings are never more needed than at Christmas – poets, too, if you think about it. His poem 'Christmas', from his book A Few Late Chrysanthemums (1954), is everything a Christmas poem should be: cheerful, amusing, light-hearted, profound and deeply Christian. It is immediately accessible: it delivers meaning immediately and on further reflection much deeper meaning.
Read this at a carol service and the members of the congregation are not hunched down in the pews, pondering conundrums of misery and doubt; they are smiling, filled with light and Christmas beatitude. At the time of those school carol services Betjeman's book had only been published a handful of years and smelt too much of freshness and modernity".
The Poem
The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.
The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.
Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.
And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.
And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.
And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?
And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,
No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
Images
TBA
Recording
Album: Sir John Betjeman's Varsity Rag
Music: Jim Parker
℗ 1981 Virgin Records
Read by the author - former Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom. Here Sir John Betjeman invites us to share his wit and his deeply Christian sentiment. Recorded in 1980.
"How pleasant, then, to turn to John Betjeman, poet and human being. Human beings are never more needed than at Christmas – poets, too, if you think about it. His poem 'Christmas', from his book A Few Late Chrysanthemums (1954), is everything a Christmas poem should be: cheerful, amusing, light-hearted, profound and deeply Christian. It is immediately accessible: it delivers meaning immediately and on further reflection much deeper meaning.
Read this at a carol service and the members of the congregation are not hunched down in the pews, pondering conundrums of misery and doubt; they are smiling, filled with light and Christmas beatitude. At the time of those school carol services Betjeman's book had only been published a handful of years and smelt too much of freshness and modernity".
The Poem
The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.
The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.
Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.
And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.
And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.
And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?
And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,
No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
Images
TBA
Recording
Album: Sir John Betjeman's Varsity Rag
Music: Jim Parker
℗ 1981 Virgin Records
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