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A Christmas Reverie · Ririro.com - Poetry

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  Speaker 1: A Christmas reverie tomorrow, alas I am booked to go
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  Speaker 1: and dine with our Colonel and missus co I hate
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  Speaker 1: to depart from my usual way, and tomorrow, by Jove
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  Speaker 1: will be Christmas Day. One feels now one hasn't a
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  Speaker 1: regular mess. It's a bore to go out, and a
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  Speaker 1: nuisance to dress, and a feed at the commandant's bungalow
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  Speaker 1: is a dreary attempt at Christmas. You know, the punkah
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  Speaker 1: instead of the Christmas fire, the Colonel instead of the
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  Speaker 1: dear old Squire, the lizard, and withering noonday glow instead
• 0:39
  Speaker 1: of the robin, and frost and snow. I know, after
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  Speaker 1: all that my lot isn't bad, But somehow or other
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  Speaker 1: it makes me sad at a season like this, when
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  Speaker 1: the thoughts will roam to think what they're doing just
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  Speaker 1: now at home? I fancy I see them, the Squire
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  Speaker 1: and all in the breakfast room in the dear old hall.
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  Speaker 1: There's snow on the drive and the grove of birch,
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  Speaker 1: and they're ringing the chimes in the village church. Yes
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  Speaker 1: yonder he sits in his wonted place with a smile
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  Speaker 1: on his fresh, benignant face, and the mother. She's there
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  Speaker 1: at the other end. And Harry and Jack and Jane
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  Speaker 1: and a friend. I wonder whether they're altered much. The
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  Speaker 1: dad's crisp hair had a silvery touch when I said goodbye,
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  Speaker 1: and he bore up so and that why it's nearly
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  Speaker 1: ten years ago. The mother too, She was tall and erect,
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  Speaker 1: but she's stooping a little now, I expect. And her hair,
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  Speaker 1: in its rich and glossy bands, has been fingered, perhaps
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  Speaker 1: by time's rough hands, but it cannot alter her looks
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  Speaker 1: so kind it robs, but it leaves the heart behind.
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  Speaker 1: And I see her beam happily round in the way
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  Speaker 1: that she always beamed upon Christmas Day. There's Harry, who
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  Speaker 1: taught me fine escapades. He's got his majority now in
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  Speaker 1: the guards, and they say that he's leading a steady
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  Speaker 1: life and thinking of looking about for a wife. There's Jack,
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  Speaker 1: why I left him a rollicking lad and now he's
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  Speaker 1: a mate on an ironclad And Jane a mere baby
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  Speaker 1: in frock and curl. If her photograph's true, is a
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  Speaker 1: beautiful girl. They're sitting all round the family spread. There's
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  Speaker 1: a pasty of game and a big boar's head. There's
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  Speaker 1: Holly on window and picture frame, and the fire burns
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  Speaker 1: up with a crackling flame. Then the quiet old rector
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  Speaker 1: looks in on his way and bids them a blithesome
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  Speaker 1: Christmas Day, and together they walk through the grove of birch,
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  Speaker 1: over the stile to the village church. At the graveyard gate,
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  Speaker 1: the church wardens stand with a merry Christmas and hat
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  Speaker 1: in hand. The grocer, the smithy and farmer ball, and
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  Speaker 1: the Squire has a kindly word for all. Then when
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  Speaker 1: the shadows of night descend, the hall is lighted from
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  Speaker 1: end to end. There's a bonfire huge on the lawn
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  Speaker 1: outside and within. The mother is in her pride, for
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  Speaker 1: she loves this night the best of the year, and
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  Speaker 1: loads her board with the Christmas cheer, the mincemeat pies
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  Speaker 1: and the loin of beef, and the grand plum pudding
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  Speaker 1: with holly leaf. There's happiness too in the old Squire's
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  Speaker 1: face as he rises and says the Christmas Grace. He
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  Speaker 1: chuckles and laughs and cracks his joke, and the parties
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  Speaker 1: a party of merry folk. Then he fills a bumper
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  Speaker 1: up to the brim. He toasts them all, and they
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  Speaker 1: all toast him a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
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  Speaker 1: to every one who is near and dear. But I
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  Speaker 1: fancy the mother's eyes are wet when the old man
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  Speaker 1: says there is one toast, yet him absent. The youngster
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  Speaker 1: who's far away, God give him a merry Christmas day.
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  Speaker 1: Ah me. I know that my lot's not bad, but
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  Speaker 1: the reverie somehow makes me sad. And this is a
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  Speaker 1: time when the thoughts will roam wherever we are to
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  Speaker 1: the scenes of home.