So I’m sitting here relaxed, nursing a nice dark winter beer, the tree lights are on, as are the lights outside, there’s still lots of snow on the ground, and maybe more coming, and it’s the shortest day, the day of the winter Solstice, when the year and the world begin again. Time for that perfect Susan Cooper poem:
The Shortest Day
And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us – listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Categories: scholars and rogues