One of the old Christmas traditions, not so much observed any more in the age of Me Too, is the kiss stolen under the mistletoe at Christmas. Granted, it was a tradition that easily lent itself to abuse, but I miss it nevertheless. This poem by Walter de la Mare gently reminds us of times gone by.
Mistletoe
Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Some one came, and kissed me there.
Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.
Have a good day, enjoy the rest of your last weekend before Christmas, and don't abuse the mistletoe privilege.
More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
2 comments:
It's a great tradition. But, like everything else, good judgement is needed.
My final pre-Christmas votes:
10 more for Mitch McConnell. His use of power deserves it.
20 for Mitch McConnell.
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