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The poems comprising this volume have appeared from time to time in the magazine published in connection with the church—St. Barnabas, Pimlico—of which Mr. Gurney was vicar. They are, therefore, devotional in character. They are also, in some degree, symbolical and mystical. Mr. Gurney has evidently been a good deal under the influence of that earlier phase of Rossetti's art—both in printing and poetry—which dallied with spiritual mysteries, and sought to give them a visible embodiment. The author comes somewhat late as a disciple of the revival of mediaeval feeling, which began in this country forty yoars ago; but ho has the distinction of being more attracted by the spiritual than by the aesthetic side of that revival.
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A Christmas Faggot
Alfred Gurney, M.A.
Contents:
Preface.
Yule Tide.
The Madonna Di San Sisto.
Bethlehem Gate.
S. Joseph.
A Cradle Song.
A Cradled Child.
An Empty Cradle.
New Year's Eve.
The Victim.
The Daysman.
The Physician.
The Poet.
Three Sisters.
A Christmas Puzzle.
Four Epiphanies.
The Children's Eucharist.
The Gospel Songs.
Cover Design: @mei - Fotolia.com
Jazzybee Verlag Jürgen Beck
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ISBN: 9783849647032
www.jazzybee-verlag.de
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Most of the following poems have appeared in the 'S. Barnabas' Parish Magazine.' For my godchildren and my people I have made them up into a little bundle of sticks—a Christmas faggot to feed the fires in the winter palace of our King.
It is the Incarnation that justifies all joy, and song is the expression of joy. The Gospel Songs all celebrate the Great Nativity. Birth and marriage are the occasions most sacred to mirth and music among men; and Christmas is at once the Birthday and the Marriage Festival of Humanity.
Glad and thankful shall I be if any song of mine should help to fan the flame of rejoicing love in any Christian heart at this holy and happy season.
'They bring me sorrow touched with joy,The merry merry bells of Yule.'
Tennyson, In Memoriam.
The Royal Birthday dawns again, A stricken world to bless; And sufferers forget their pain, And mourners their distress.
Love sings to-day; her eyes so fair With happy tears are wet; She is too humble to despair, Too faithful to forget.
Her voice is very soft and sweet, Her heart is brave and strong; Her vassal, I would fain repeat Some fragments of her song.
A Birthday-song my heart would sing Its rapture to express; My Father's son must be a king, And share His consciousness.
Of God's Self-knowledge comes the Word That utters all His Thought; That Word made Flesh by all is heard Who seek as they are sought.
His seeking and His finding make Our search an easy thing; He sows good seed, and bids us take The joys of harvesting.
Yet must His children do their part,