This week’s choice marks Christmas and its festivities. It is “Christmas, 1903” by John Masefield.
The church-bells rock and jangle, and there is peace on the earth.
John Masefield (1878—1967)
Peace and good will and plenty and Christmas games and mirth.
Poem 417. Christmas, 1903
O, THE sea breeze will be steady, and the tall ship’s going trim,
And the dark blue skies are paling, and the white stars burning dim;
The long night watch is over, and the long sea-roving done,
And yonder light is the Start Point light, and yonder comes the sun.
O, we have been with the Spaniards, and far and long on the sea;
But there are the twisted chimneys, and the gnarled old inns on the quay.
The wind blows keen as the day breaks, the roofs are white with the rime,
And the church-bells ring as the sun comes up to call men in to Prime.
The church-bells rock and jangle, and there is peace on the earth.
Peace and good will and plenty and Christmas games and mirth.
O, the gold glints bright on the wind-vane as it shifts above the squire’s house,
And the water of the bar of Salcombe is muttering about the bows.
O, the salt sea tide of Salcombe, it wrinkles into wisps of foam,
And the church-bells ring in Salcombe to ring poor sailors home.
The belfry rocks as the bells ring, the chimes are merry as a song,
They ring home wandering sailors who have been homeless long.
John Masefield writes this poem, as so often, from the perspective of seafarers and he gives us a beautiful sketch of a ship returning from a long voyage at Christmas time.
The poem begins at daybreak: the weather is good and the stars are beginning to fade in the clear sky as the ship approaches Start Point in Devon. We can imagine the sky fading from black through deep blue as the eastern horizon brightens and the lighthouse warning them of their danger.
We see the harbour with its “twisted chimneys, and the gnarled old inns on the quay”—we can imagine these places, just small pubs catering to the sailors, with their roofs bleached by the wind and the salt air, and we can almost hear the bells ringing to summon worshippers to morning prayer (Prime is the first hour of daylight in the Catholic Christian Divine Office and is roughly equivalent to 6am at the equinoxes though later at Christmas time).
In the third stanza we learn that the port in question is Salcombe, just around the coast from Start Point. As they come into the mooring point, the bells intensify, reminding us of the message of Christmas Day and the joys of spending time with our families and enjoying the “Peace and good will and plenty and Christmas games and mirth.” We can see in our mind’s eye the weather-vane shining atop the local dignitary’s house and the sound of the water as the ship approaches the wharf.
Masefield shows us the tips of the waves, crowned with foam; the bells seeming to welcome home the seamen who have been homeless so long and the bell tower resonating as the sound rings out.
I like it because Masefield paints such a clear picture of the ship, the harbour and the feelings of the seamen as they arrive home for Christmas.
I haven’t been able to find a performance of this poem on YouTube, unfortunately. I wish everyone who has read (and hopefully enjoyed) this year’s choices all the joys of the Christmas season and a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year.