Thursday, December 24, 2009

A repeat of Grandma's Christmas Poem

Jul-Tide Pilgrimage

In fancy, I go to the Northland, At Christmas time long, long ago,
When my Mom was a small girl in Sweden
And forests were laden with snow.
She helped choose the spruce on the hillside -
The prettiest one to be found;
Granddad felled it and loaded the stoneboat With small folk and tree, homeward bound.
Red lingon have long since been gathered
For jam as a holiday treat;
They grow in the moss-covered marshes,
With promise a future so sweet.
Come hither to fill their wood buckets
And thrill to the cuckoo's call,
That chimes from the top of a pine tree -
A peace and good will song to all!
The candles are moulded from tallow,
Good Julbread and fruit soup is made;
Round cheeses, stuffed sausage and lutfisk,
Will humble festivity aid.
Preparedness is now in full motion, The floor is sand-scrubbed and looks white,
With a door mat of evergreen branches -
Some on stove for incense delight.
This Christmas is full of surprises,
Red apples now sway in the tree;
Dear presents - so graciously home-made,
And eyes that are starfilled, I see.
It's Christmas Eve! In this lowly dwelling
The true Jul-tide Spirit abides,
The head of the house reads the Story -
The love of the Christ Child presides.
At dawn, on their brisk walk to God's House,
Groups carol the long six-mile way -
Thus honor the Babe with their presence
And worship on this Blessed Day.
May you, too, have a heart-warming Christmas,
Find you in each good thing God lends
And thrill as each candle-light hallows The Gift that His Love to you sends.

Phoebe Carolina Swanson Johnson
December 1962
, Sioux Falls, SD

Joe and Phoebe Johnson, 1951.

Each year Grandma would print a poem or write a song to include with her Christmas Card.

No comments:


Related Posts with Thumbnails