Dark and Cold is the Night

 Dark and Cold is the Night 

Dark and cold is the night--

High above, a star shines bright.

Far down below in the stable small,

A young woman cradles the hope of all.

   She rocks her child to sleep

   While angels vigil keep.

He is Lord of the earth,

Yet he had a humble birth.

No silken sheets to caress his form,

Only some hay to keep him warm.

   She holds her baby tight--

   She guards him in the night.

Angels appear in the skies,

Glory bursts on shepherds' eyes!

Hastening back to Bethlehem town,

Finding the manger and kneeling down.

   The love of God for all

   Rests in a child so small.

Gifts from over the sands,

Carried in the Wise Men's hands:

Gold is the gift for a mighty King,

Frankincense for worshiping,

   And myrrh…to mark his death.

   His mother holds her breath.

Dark and cold is the night--

High above, a star shines bright.

Far down below in the stable small,

A young woman cradles the hope of all.

   She rocks her child to sleep

    While angels vigil keep.

____________________________________________________________

                         (copyright 2018, Mary M. Isaacs)

 "Dark and Cold is the Night " is part of the collection in "Christ Child's Lullaby",

as appears on the sidebar.

The Poetry Corner

 The codfish lays a thousand eggs.

The lowly hen but one.

The codfish never says a word,

to tell you what she's done.

And so we scorn the codfish,

while the lowly hen we prize.

Which only goes to show you that

it pays to advertise!

In Flanders Fields

- Lt. Col. John McCrae

The Poetry Corner

The Prodigal Son -John Newton 

Afflictions though they seem severe, In mercy oft are sent, 

They stopp’d the prodigal’s career, And caus’d him to repent. 

Chorus: I’ll die no more for bread, he cried, Nor starve in foreign lands; My father’s house has large supplies, And bounteous are his hands. 

What have I gained by sin, he said, But hunger, shame and fear? My father’s house abounds with bread, While I am starving here. [Chorus] 

I’ll go and tell him all I’ve done, Fall down before his face, Unworthy to be called his son, I’ll seek a servant’s place. [Chorus] 

His father saw him coming back, He saw, and ran, and smiled, And threw his arms around the neck Of his rebellious child. [Chorus] 

Father, I’ve sinned, but O forgive! Enough! the father said; Rejoice, my house, my son’s alive, For whom I mourned as dead. [Chorus] 

Now let the fatted calf be slain, And spread the news around; My son was dead, and lives again; Was lost, but now is found. [Chorus] 

‘Tis thus the Lord His love reveals, To call poor sinners home; More than a father’s love He feels, And welcomes all that come. [Chorus]

The Poetry Corner

The Pulley

BY GEORGE HERBERT

When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
“Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie,
Contract into a span.”

So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.

“For if I should,” said he,
“Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
So both should losers be.

“Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to my breast.”

The Poetry Corner

"When the world my heart is rending
With its heaviest storm of care,
My glad thoughts to heaven ascending,
Find a refuge from despair.
Faith's bright vision shall sustain me
Till life's pilgrimage is past;
Fears may vex and troubles pain me,
I shall reach my home at last."

- William Hiley Bathurst

The Poetry Corner

Oh, there once was a Puffin
Just the shape of a muffin,
And he lived on an island
In the bright blue sea!

He ate little fishes,
That were most delicious,
And he had them for supper
And he had them for tea.

But this poor little Puffin,
He couldn’t play nothin’,
For he hadn’t anybody
To play with at all.

So he sat on his island,
And he cried for awhile, and
He felt very lonely,
And he felt very small.

Then along came the fishes,
And they said, “If you wishes,
You can have us for playmates,
Instead of for tea!”

So they now play together,
In all sorts of weather,
And the Puffin eats pancakes,
Like you and like me.


-Florence Page Jaques

The Poetry Corner

Here's a little poem I wrote last Decenmber when I finished putting up my Christmas decorations.
This year, I added three more strings of lights!

The lights on the house,
LEDs, they're like icicles.
(Feel like I rode 20 miles on my bicycle!)
Solar lights circle the palm tree's circumference
(Oh, yeah! Like I have a rhyme for circumference!)
The wreath on the front door is covered in bells
Decorations are done!
Joyeux Noël!

The Poetry Corner

O that the Lord would guide my ways

O that the Lord would guide my ways
To keep His statutes still!
O that my God would grant me grace
To know and do His will!

O send Thy Spirit down to write
Thy law upon my heart!
Nor let my tongue indulge deceit,
Nor act the liar’s part.

From vanity turn off my eyes;
Let no corrupt design,
Nor covetous desires, arise
Within this soul of mine.

Order my footsteps by Thy Word,
And make my heart sincere;
Let sin have no dominion, Lord,
But keep my conscience clear.

My soul hath gone too far astray,
My feet too often slip;
Yet since I’ve not forgot Thy way,
Restore Thy wand’ring sheep.

Make me to walk in Thy commands,
’Tis a delightful road;
Nor let my head, or heart, or hands,
Offend against my God.

-Isaac Watts

POSSLQ Valentine

There's nothing that I wouldn't do

If you would be my POSSLQ.

You live with me, and I with you,

And you will be my POSSLQ.

I'll be your friend and so much more;

That's what a POSSLQ is for.

And everything we will confess;

Yes, even to the IRS

Someday, on what we both may earn,

Perhaps we'll file a joint return.

You'll share my pad, my taxes joint.

You'll share my life - up to a point!

And that you'll be so glad to do,

Because you'll be my POSSLQ.

Come live with me and be my love

And share the pain and pleasure of

The blessed continuity,

Official POSSLQuity.

And I will whisper in your ear.

That word you love so much to hear.

And love will stay forever new,

If you will be my POSSLQ.

-Charles Osgood

("persons of opposite sex sharing living quarters")

Ode to Eric Swalwell

(The Indispensable Man)

-Saxon White Kessinger

Sometime when you're feeling important;
Sometime when your ego 's in bloom;
Sometime when you take it for granted,
You're the best qualified in the room:
Sometime when you feel that your going,
Would leave an unfillable hole,
Just follow these simple instructions,
And see how they humble your soul.

Take a bucket and fill it with water,
Put your hand in it up to the wrist,
Pull it out and the hole that's remaining,
Is a measure of how much you'll be missed.
You can splash all you wish when you enter,
You may stir up the water galore,
But stop, and you'll find that in no time,
It looks quite the same as before.

The moral of this quaint example,
Is to do just the best that you can,
Be proud of yourself but remember,
There's no indispensable man.

The Poetry Corner

Old Mother Hubbard 

went to her cupboard 

to get her poor daughter a dress. 

When she got there 

the cupboard was bare 

and so was her daughter, I guess!

-taught to me, in class, by a high school English teacher, who today would be run out of town on a rail.

The Pirates of Pittance

I am the very model of a modern major socialist
I've studied economics, but too many classes I have missed.

I know the triple chambers of the Congress categorical,
From Speaker of the House unto Vice President Al Goreical.

I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters quite bartenderial,
I may look like an intern, but I'm really quite shmendrikial,

My policies may look like they are mostly Venezuel-e-an
But also quite correctly you can say just how 'cray cray' I am.

(With apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan)

The Poetry Corner

God is love: His mercy brightens
All the path in which we rove;
Bliss He wakes, and woe He lightens:
God is wisdom, God is love.

Death and change are busy ever,
Man decays, and ages move;
But His mercy waneth never:
God is wisdom, God is love.

E’en the hour that darkest seemeth
Will His changeless goodness prove;
From the cloud His brightness streameth:
God is wisdom, God is love.

He with earthly cares entwineth
Hope and comfort from above;
Everywhere His glory shineth:
God is wisdom, God is love.

-Sir John Bowring

Quote du jour

The movie wasn't so hot.
It didn't have much of a plot.
We fell asleep, our goose is cooked,
Our reputation is shot.

-Wake up, little Susie, by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant

The Poetry Corner

There once was a Lizzie named Warren
To her, DNA was quite foreign.
For all of her action
They gave her a fraction,
Which only proved she was a moreign.

John Donne, on the Passing of John McCain

No man is an island entire of itself
Every man is a piece of the continent
A part of the main
If a clod be washed away by the sea
Europe is the less
As well as if a promontory were
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were
Any man's death diminishes me
Because I am involved in mankind
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; 
It tolls for thee

This Day in History 1775

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The Old North Bridge in Concord, Massachusetts, was the site of the first real skirmish of the American Revolution. Earlier on the morning of April 19, 1775, British soldiers opened fire on a company of militia down the road in Lexington, but that hardly qualifies as a skirmish. The colonial militia at Lexington didn’t intend on fighting the redcoats, who outnumbered them about 700 to 80, and were better equipped and better trained. The famous “shot heard round the world,” is still a bit of a mystery, as to who fired on whom. Tensions were so high however, that upon hearing the shot, the British fired into the colonists, a few returned fire, the British charged and wisely, the colonists ran, leaving eight of their own dead and ten wounded on the field.

The Poetry Corner

Winter drifts.
Spring blossoms.
Summer lingers.
Autumn leaves.

-Mike B

The Poetry Corner

Oh, will you please,
Stop erasing history?
It happened, alas
And you can't change the past.

All the snowflakes I see,
Attacking Francis Scott Key
Have proved, at least to me
Of their own idiocity.

So all you whiny snowflakes,
Better grow up for your own sakes,
'Cause the patriots have had enough
Of your stupid stuff.

So run along little snowflake,
Take your pussy hat to your safe space,
Or we will kick your ass,
As was done in the past.


Written by "Bo Barton"
as she was frying bacon and drinking an American beer.

-from a reader submssion