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(1886) (notes by John McGivering and John Radcliffe) |
the poem
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Morning brought the penetrating chill of the Northern December, the layers of wood-smoke, the dusty grey-blue of the tamarisks, the domes of ruined tombs, and all the smell of the white Northern plains, as the mail-train ran on to the mile-long Sutlej Bridge...They were picking them up at almost every station now—men and women coming in for the Christmas Week, with racquets, with bundles of polo-sticks, with dear and bruised cricket-bats, with fox-terriers and saddles ...At the time the poem was written Kipling himself was with his parents and sister in what he called “the Family Square” writing contributions to the Christmas number of his paper and generally enjoying family life after a long separation.
About midnight half a dozen men who did not care for dancing came over from the Club to play “Waits,” and that was a surprise the Stewards had arranged—before any one knew what had happened, the band stopped, and hidden voices broke into “Good King Wenceslaus,” and William in the gallery hummed and beat time with her foot.
By noon a length of unclean jungle had turned iinto a cattle-proof barrier, tufted here and there with little plumes of the sacred holly which no woodman touches without orders.[Verse 2]
Good Christian men rejoice[Verse 3]
With heart and soul and voice!
Give ye heed to what we say
News! News!
Jesus Christ is born today!
Ox and ass before Him bow
And He is in the manger now
Christ is born today!
Christ is born today!