The Trapper's Christmas Eve

Alles was nicht in die anderen Foren passt

The Trapper's Christmas Eve

Beitragvon Baumjoe » Fr 24. Dez 2010, 23:50

The Trapper's Christmas Eve
by Robert W. Service

It's mighty lonesome-like and drear.
Above the Wild the moon rides high,
And shows up sharp and needle-clear
The emptiness of earth and sky;
No happy homes with love a-glow;
No Santa Claus to make believe;
Just snow and snow, and then more snow;
It's Christmas Eve, it's Christmas Eve.

And here am I where all things end,
And Undesirables are hurled;
A poor old man without a friend,
Forgot and dead to all the world;
Clean out of sight and out of mind...
Well, maybe it is better so;
We all in life our level find,
And mine, I guess is pretty low.

Yet as I sit with pipe alight
Beside the cabin fire, it's queer
This mind of mine must take to-night
The backward trail of fifty year.
The school-house and the Christmas tree;
The children with their cheeks a-glow;
Two bright blue eyes that smile on me...
Just half a century ago.

Again (it's maybe forty years)
With faith and trust almost divine,
These same blue eyes, abrim with tears,
Through depths of love look into mine.
A parting, tender, soft and low,
With arms that cling and lips that cleave...
Ah me! it's all so long ago,
Yet seems so sweet this Christmas Eve.

Just thirty years ago, again...
We say a bitter, last good-bye;
Our lips are white with wrath and pain;
Our little children cling and cry.
Whose was the fault? it matters not,
For man and woman both deceive;
It's buried now and all forgot,
Forgiven too, this Christmas Eve.

And she (God pity me) is dead;
Our children men and women grown.
I like to think that they are wed,
With little children of their own,
That crowd around their Christmas tree...
I would not ever have them grieve,
Or shed a single tear for me,
To mar their joy this Christmas Eve.

Stripped to the buff and gaunt and still
Lies all the land in grim distress.
Like lost soul wailing, long and shrill,
A wolf-howl cleaves the emptiness.
The hushed as Death is everything.
The moon rides haggard and forlorn...
„Oh hark the herald angels sing!“
God bless all men--it's Christmas morn.


Frohe Weihnachten und einen guten Rutsch

Baumjoe
www.Baumjoe1.de

I'm sure there are many things I'll never learn by travelling over the earth in a canoe. I'm just not sure any of them are worth much.
Baumjoe
 
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Registriert: Do 15. Okt 2009, 18:27
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