So, Now Is Come Our Joyfulst Feast
"So, Now Is Come Our Joyfulst Feast" is a Christmas poem brimming with the sights and sounds of holiday celebration — ivy-decked rooms, smoking chimneys, roasting spits, and the beat of bagpipe and tabor. George Wither sweeps readers through a village alive with feasting and dancing, where even misers loosen their purse strings, lads court lasses, and Jack pipes while Jill dances. Sorrow is firmly shut outside as the whole community surrenders to the warmth and abundance of the season.
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