Christmas

Wystan Hugh Auden | Feb 1907 – Sep 1973 | English-American

…Now we must dismantle the tree,
put the decorations back into their cardboard boxes –
some have got broken – and carrying them up to the attic.
The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt,
And the children got ready for school.
There are enough Left-overs to do,
warmed-up for the rest of the week –
Not that we have much appetite, having drunk such a lot,
Stayed up so late, attempted – quite unsuccessfully –
To love all our relatives, and in general
Grossly overestimated our powers. Once again,
As in previous years, we have seen the actual Vision and failed.
To do more than entertain it as an agreeable
Possibility, once again we have sent Him away,
Begging though to remain His disobedient servant,
The promising child who cannot keep his word for long.
The Christmas feast is already a fading memory,
And already the mind begins to be vaguely audre
Of an unpleasant whiff of apprehension at the thought
Of Lent and Good Friday which cannot, after all, now be very far off…

…In the meantime
There are bills to be paid, machines to keep in repair,
Irregular verbs to learn the Time Being to redeem
From insignificance. The happy morning is over
The night of agony still to come; the time is noon:
When the spirit must practice his scales of rejoicing
Without even a hostile audience and the soul endure
A silence that is neither for nor against her faith
That G-d's Will be done, that in spite of her prayers
G-d will cheat no one, not even the world of its triumph.