Christmas Fireside Poetry With S D HUDSON MAGIC
This is a fireside reading of a collection of traditional Christmas poems. The poems are repeated. This track is designed for a calm relaxing transition into sleep. Relax to the soothing voice of English author S D HUDSON.
Transcript
Hello,
This is Stephanie Hudson.
Welcome to my Christmas Meditative Poetry readings.
These readings will transport us back to another time and another place.
A traditional place where we may feel safe and supported.
It will be nice to listen to poetry together.
And now it is time to relax and fully let go.
Take a deep breath in through your nose.
And let it out in a long sigh.
That's it.
Feel the tension slip away from your cheeks.
Feel your shoulders melt away from your ears.
Feel your body sink into the support beneath you.
And know that you are safe.
And now you are feeling better.
Let us begin.
DAWN Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St.
Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled or snuck in their beds,
While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads,
And Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn,
There arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eye should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St.
Nick.
More rapid than eagles his courses they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Dasher,
Now Dancer,
Now Prancer and Vixen,
On Comet,
On Cupid,
On Donder and Blitzen,
To the top of the porch,
To the top of the wall,
Now dash away,
Dash away,
Dash away all.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle,
Mount to the sky,
So up to the house top the courses they flew,
With a sleigh full of toys and St.
Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney St.
Nicholas came with a bow.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes,
How they twinkled,
His dimples,
How merry.
His cheeks were like roses,
His nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a round little belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump,
A right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work and filled all the stockings,
Then turned with a jerk and laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh,
To his teen gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim,
And he drove out of sight.
Happy Christmas to all,
And to all a good night.
Music I love,
But never strain,
Could kindle rapture so divine.
So grief assuage,
So conquer pain,
And rouse this pensive heart of mine.
As that we hear on Christmas morn,
Upon the wintery breezes born.
Though darkness still her empire keep,
And hours must pass,
Ere morning break,
From troubled dreams or slumbers deep,
That music kindly bids us wake.
It calls us with an angels voice,
To wake and worship and rejoice.
This world is as wild as an old wives tale,
And strange the plain things are.
The earth is enough,
And the air is enough,
For our wonder and our war.
But our rest is as far as the fire drake swings,
And our peace is put in impossible things,
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden,
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless,
And all men are at home.
Before the ice is in the pools,
Before the skaters go,
Or any check at nightfall is tarnished by the snow.
Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder will arrive to me.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,
The flying cloud,
The frosty light.
The year is dying in the night,
Ring out wild bells and let him die.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite.
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold.
Ring out the thousand walls of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant men and free the larger heart,
The kindlier hand.
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Oh holy night,
The stars are brightly shining.
It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees,
Oh hear the angel voices.
Oh night divine,
Oh night when Christ was born.
Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house the angels sang the hymn of Christmas,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled or snuck in their beds while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads and Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment it must be St Nicholas.
More rapid than eagles his courses they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Dasher,
Now Dancer,
Now Prancer and Vixen,
On Comet,
On Cupid,
On Donder and Blitzen.
To the top of the porch,
To the top of the wall,
Now dash away,
Dash away,
Dash away all.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky so up to the house top the courses they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pouring of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bow.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and salt.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes how they twinkled,
His dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses,
His nose like a cherry,
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smock it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a round little belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump,
A right jolly old elf and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work and filled all the stockings then turned with a jerk and laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh,
To his teen gave a whistle and away they all flew like the down of a thistle but I heard him exclaiming he drove out of the house.
I asked him to stop.
He said,
Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Happy Christmas.
Music I love but never strain could kindle raptures so divine.
So grief assuage so conquer pain and rouse this pensive heart of mine as that we hear on Christmas morn upon the wintry breezes born.
Though darkness still her empire keep and hours must pass a morning break from troubled dreams or slumpers deep that music kindly bids us wake.
It calls us with an angels voice to wake and worship and rejoice.
This world is as wild as an old wives tale and strange the plain things are.
The earth is enough and the air is enough for our wonder and our war.
But our rest is as far as the fire drakes wings and our peace is put in impossible things.
We're clashed and thunder unthinkable wings round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening home shall men come to an older place than Eden and a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star to the things that cannot be and that are.
To the place where God was homeless and all men are at home.
Before the ice is in the pools before the skaters go or any check at nightfall is tarnished by the snow.
Before the fields are finished before the Christmas tree wonder upon wonder will arrive to me.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky the flying cloud the frosty light.
The year is dying in the night ring out wild bells and let him die.
Ring out false pride in place and blood the civic slander and the spite.
Ring in the love of truth and right ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease ring out the narrowing lust of gold.
Ring out the thousand walls of old ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant men and free the larger heart the kindlier hand.
Ring out the darkness of the land ring in the Christ that is to be.
O holy night the stars are brightly shining it is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees oh hear the angel voices.
O night divine o night when Christ was born.
T'was the night before Christmas when all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St.
Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled or snuck in their beds while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads and mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment it must be St.
Nick.
More rapid than eagles his course as they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Dasher,
Now Dancer,
Now Prancer and Vixen.
On Comet,
On Cupid,
On Donder and Plitzen.
To the top of the porch,
To the top of the wall.
Now dash away,
Dash away,
Dash away all.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly.
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky.
So up to the house top the course as they flew.
With a sleigh full of toys and St.
Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little wolf.
As I drew in my head and was turning around down the chimney St.
Nicholas came with a bow.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes how they twinkled,
His dimples how merry.
His cheeks were like roses,
His nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a round little belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump,
A right jolly old elf and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work and filled all the stockings,
Then turned with a jerk and laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh,
To his teen gave a whistle and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaiming he drove out of sight.
Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Happy Christmas.
Music I love but never strain could kindle raptures so divine.
So grief assuage,
So conquer pain and rouse this pensive heart of mine.
As that we hear on Christmas morn upon the wintry breezes born.
Though darkness still her empire keep and hours must pass,
A morning break from troubled dreams or slumpers deep,
That music kindly bids us wake.
It calls us with an angels voice to wake and worship and rejoice.
This world is as wild as an old wives tale and strange the plain things are.
The earth is enough and the air is enough for our wonder and our war.
But our rest is as far as the fire drake swings and our peace is put in impossible things.
We're clashed and thundered unthinkable wings round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden and a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless and all men are at home.
Before the ice is in the pools,
Before the skaters go,
Or any check at nightfall is tarnished by the snow.
Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder will arrive to me.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,
The flying cloud,
The frosty light.
The year is dying in the night.
Ring out wild bells and let him die.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite.
Ring in the love of truth and right.
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease.
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold.
Ring out the thousand walls of old.
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant men and free the larger heart,
The kindlier hand.
Ring out the darkness of the land.
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
O holy night,
The stars are brightly shining.
It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees,
Oh hear the angel voices.
O night divine,
O night when Christ was born.
O night divine,
O night when Christ was born.
T'was the night before Christmas when all through the house not a creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St.
Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled or snuck in their beds while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads and Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment it must be St.
Nick.
More rapid than eagles his course as they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Dasher,
Now Dancer,
Now Prancer and Vixen.
On Comet,
On Cupid,
On Donder and Blitzen.
To the top of the porch,
To the top of the wall.
Now dash away,
Dash away,
Dash away all.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly.
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky so up to the house top the course as they flew.
With a sleigh full of toys and St.
Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around down the chimney St.
Nicholas came with a bow.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and salt.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes how they twinkled,
His dimples how merry.
His cheeks were like roses,
His nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smock it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a round little belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump,
A right jolly old elf and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work and filled all the stockings then turned with a jerk and laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh,
To his teen gave a whistle and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaiming he drove out of sight.
Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Happy Christmas to all.
Music I love but never strain could kindle rapture so divine.
So grief assuage so conquer pain and rouse this pensive heart of mine.
As that we hear on Christmas morn upon the wintry breezes born.
Though darkness still her empire keep and hours must pass a morning break from troubled dreams or slumpers deep that music kindly bids us wake.
It calls us with an angels voice to wake and worship and rejoice.
This world is as wild as an old wives tale and strange the plain things are.
The earth is enough and the air is enough for our wonder and our war.
But our rest is as far as the fire drake swings and our peace is put in impossible things.
We're clashed and thundered unthinkable wings round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening home shall men come to an older place than Eden and a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star to the things that cannot be and that are.
To the place where God was homeless and all men are at home.
Before the ice is in the pools,
Before the skaters go or any check at nightfall is tarnished by the snow.
Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree wonder upon wonder will arrive to me.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,
The flying cloud,
The frosty light.
The year is dying in the night.
Ring out wild bells and let him die.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite.
Ring in the love of truth and right.
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease.
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold.
Ring out the thousand walls of old.
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant men and free the larger heart,
The kindlier hand.
Ring out the darkness of the land.
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Oh holy night,
The stars are brightly shining.
It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees,
Oh hear the angel voices.
Oh night divine,
Oh night when Christ was born.
