Last night on the open boat
The baby Jesus lay
While the cows were in the manger
Twisting the sweet hay.
As I trudged through the snowfields
that lay in their own light,
A thorny bush with its shadow
It doubled overnight.
And I stayed on my journey
to hear the cheap
Of a little bird in the bush
I woke up from his bloated sleep.
The shining stars were my angels
And with the heavenly host
I sang praises to the Father,
The Son and the Holy Spirit.
The Young Christmas Day poem is a very Christmas poem to say that the word ‘Christmas’ does not appear in it, except in the title. It conjures up in me a Christmas image of great tranquility – a far more traditional and congenial image of Christmas than the alcohol-fuelled frenzy I have witnessed in the UK in my lifetime.
Reading the first verse evokes the image of the newborn Jesus of Nazareth resting peacefully in the manger and the cows quietly standing there ‘twisting the sweet hay’. ‘Twitching’ describes a jerky movement, but I imagine the hay is soft as a baby’s bed, and the cows move gently, otherwise they would not be tolerated so close!
I like to imagine that the poem is a firsthand account of one of the shepherds visiting the newborn Jesus in the stable and wearily heading home on the first Christmas morning. But perhaps Young intended to represent Christmas Day many years later instead of the original Christmas Day! The Bible does not mention that it was snowing on the original Christmas day. It snows in Bethlehem, but only rarely, and you never have thick snow that you have to ‘walk’ through. Surely the shepherds wouldn’t have left their sheep outside, like in the Christmas story, if it was snowing anyway! However, the inclusion of snow contributes nicely to the Christmassy feel of the poem, calling to mind the Berlin song “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas” and the sweet tones of Bing Crosby.
I myself remember trudging through crisp powder snow on Christmas Day 1995 in Yorkshire, UK, and I remember it being very peaceful. The magical Christmas feeling was in the air even though no one was around. The streets were deserted: everyone at home with their families on such a special day.
The snowfields in the poem are described, with lovely soft alliteration, as ‘lying in their own light’. It probably would have been quite dark if the birds were still sleeping, but one can imagine the magical light from the snow and the shining stars. The softness of babies and the whiteness of snow and stars is contrasted here with a thorny thorny bush in the dark night. But this black/white dualism is instantly thrown aside, the author experiencing in amazement the interconnectedness of everything: himself, the bird, the bush and the night. Andrew Young is said to have enjoyed walking and observing wildlife and nature (see http://www.templevillage.org.uk/temple/people_01.html). No wonder he wrote such a poem.
Young certainly identifies with the animals, and seems regretful that he woke the bird from its “bloated slumber.” What a great and simple description for the bird! For a single adjective we imagine that the bird has fallen fast asleep with all its feathers puffed up, and perhaps even with puffy eyes like humans when they are rudely awakened.
The last verse magnificently finishes the poem. I love the metaphor ‘The bright stars were my angels’. And the wonderful alliteration ‘heavenly host’ instantly brings to mind a great army of angels singing along with Young. I imagine them singing praises to baby Jesus, as well as the snow, the bird, and the bush. The singing of praise in this poem can perhaps also be related to the enormous relief of peace that will still have been felt at that time, since the poem was published in 1947, shortly after the end of World War II.
The structure of this Christmas poem is simple with the end of lines 2 and 4 of each verse rhyming. Given the syllabic density of some words, each line can be read as an iambic trimeter.
I look forward to reading other alternative and perhaps more complete reviews of this poem.
I hope everyone has a peaceful Christmas!