A DECEMBER FORCE OF POETS

Narrated by
William E. Spear

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Full Transcript –

A DECEMBER FORCE OF POETS

ORIGINAL DATE: 9 December 2023

(Cold Intro)

This is . . . The Three Fifty-seven.

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Hello. My name is William E. Spear and you are listening to The Three Fifty-seven.

This episode features three poets born 200 hundred years ago and whose work still inspires.

Sit back and enjoy A DECEMBER FORCE OF POETS.

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The first poem is Emily Jane Brontë’s TO A WREATH OF SNOW.

Brontë was born in Yorkshire, England in 1818 and wrote nearly 200 poems and the novel WUTHERING HEIGHTS.

Written in 1837 and published after her death, this is Brontë’s TO A WREATH OF SNOW.

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TO A WREATH OF SNOW

O transient voyager of heaven!
O silent sign of winter skies!
What adverse wind thy sail has driven
To dungeons where a prisoner lies?

Methinks the hands that shut the sun
So sternly from this morning’s brow
Might still their rebel task have done
And checked a thing so frail as thou.

They would have done it had they known
The talisman that dwelt in thee,
For all the suns that ever shone
Have never been so kind to me!

For many a week, and many a day
My heart was weighed with sinking gloom
When morning rose in mourning grey
And faintly lit my prison room

But angel like, when I awoke,
Thy silvery form so soft and fair
Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke
Of cloudy skies and mountains bare;

The dearest to a mountaineer
Who, all life long has loved the snow
That crowned her native summits drear,
Better, than greenest plains below.

And voiceless, soulless, messenger
Thy presence waked a thrilling tone
That comforts me while thou art here
And will sustain when thou art gone

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The second poem is Frances Ellen Watkins Harper’s OUT IN THE COLD.

Harper was born in Baltimore, Maryland USA in September of 1825. Her work included poetry, short stories, and novels.

Reflecting upon women who have been “Wrecked and ruined, wronged and betrayed”, this is Harper’s OUT IN THE COLD.

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OUT IN THE COLD

Out in the cold mid the dreary night,
Under the eaves of homes so bright:
Snowflakes falling o’er mother’s grave
Will no one rescue, no one save?

A child left out in the dark and cold,
A lamb not sheltered in any fold,
Hearing the wolves of hunger bark,
Out in the cold! and out in the dark

Missing to-night the charming bliss,
That lies in the mother’s good-night kiss;
And hearing no loving father’s prayer,
For blessings his children all may share.

Creeping away to some wretched den,
To sleep mid the curses of drunken men
And women, not as God has made,
Wrecked and ruined, wronged and betrayed.

Church of the Lord reach out thy arm,
And shield the hapless one from harm;
Where the waves of sin are dashing wild
Rescue and save the drifting child.

Wash from her life guilt’s turbid foam,
In the fair haven of a home;
Tenderly lead the motherless girl
Up to the gates of purest pearl.

The wandering feet which else had strayed,
From thorny paths may yet be stayed;
And a crimson track through the cold dark night
May exchange to a line of loving light.

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The third poem is Mary Bridges Caned Slade’s WHAT DECEMBER SAYS.

Slade was born in Fall River, Massachusetts USA in 1826 and was a teacher and musical composer.

Imploring readers to “open our hearts”, this is Slade’s WHAT DECEMBER SAYS.

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WHAT DECEMBER SAYS

Open your hearts ere I am gone,
And hear my old, old story;
For I am the month that first looked down
On the beautiful Babe of glory.
You never must call me lone and drear
Because no birds are singing;
Open your hearts, and you shall hear
The song of the angels ringing.

Open your hearts, and hear the feet
Of the star-led Wise Men, olden;
Bring out your treasures of incense sweet;
Lay down your offerings golden.
You say you look, but you see no sight
Of the wonderful Babe I’m telling;
You say they have carried him off, by night,
From Bethlehem’s lowly dwelling.

Open your hearts and seek the door
Where the alway poor are staying;
For this is the story, for evermore
The Master’s voice is saying:
Inasmuch as ye do it unto them.
The poor, the weak, and the stranger,
Ye do it to Jesus of Bethlehem—
Dear Babe of the star-lit manger!

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You’ve just listened to A DECEMBER FORCE OF POETS.

Music was through the courtesy of DSTechnician, AmarantaMusic, Alexander Nakarada, and Birds Flying in the Dark.

The Three Fifty-seven is written and produced by William Spear.

Thank you for listening.

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