Come, sweetest of the feather’d throng!

And soothe me with thy plaintive song:

Come to my cot, devoid of fear,

No danger shall await thee here:

No prowling cat, with whisker’d face,

Approaches this sequester’d place:

No schoolboy with his willow-bow

Shall aim at thee a murd’rous blow:

No wily lim’d twig ere molest

Thy olive wing or crimson breast:

Thy cup, sweet bird, I’ll daily fill

At yonder cressy, bubbling rill;

Thy board shall plenteously be spread

With crumblets of the nicest bread;

And when rude winter comes and shows

His icicles and shivering snows,

Hop o’er my cheering hearth and be

One of my peaceful family:

Then soothe me with thy plaintive song,

Thou sweetest of the fearther’d throng.

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock,

"Now they are all on their knees"

An elder said as we sat in a flock

By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where

They dwelt in their strawy pen

Nor did it occur to one of us there

To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave

In these years! Yet I feel

If someone said on Christmas Eve,

"Come, see the oxen kneel".

"In the lonely barton by yonder coomb

Our childhood used to know,"

I should go with him the in gloom,

Hoping it might be so.

Thomas Hardy 1840-1928

When fishes flew and forests walked

And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry

And eats like errant wings,

The devil’s walking parody

Of all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,

I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour:

One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

And palms before my feet.

G. K. Chesterton (1874 - 1936)

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Blessed are they who understand

My faltering step and shaking hand.

Blessed are they who know my ears today

Must strain to hear the things they say.

Blessed are they who seem to know

My eyes are dim and my answers slow.

Blessed are they who look away

When my tea was spilled at the table today.

Blessed are they who with a cheery smile

Will stop to chat for a little while.

Blessed are they who never say

"You’ve told that story twice today."

Blessed are they who know my ways

And bring back memories of yesterdays.

Blessed are they who ease the days

And care for me in loving ways.

Blessed are they who make it known

I’m loved, respected and not alone.