Seventh Day in the Octave of Christmas I, II, and III

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Seventh Day in the Octave

of Christmas I

“Lest our old robes sit easier than our new”

-Macbeth II.iii.37

Does the year fail, or is it we who fail?

This Octave day in darkness cold begins
And on the radio the same dark news
That began this fading Gregorian year
The well-turned compost heap of history
On which we flung the grounds and husks of hope
Expecting little, and so not disappointed
No resolutions, then, no black-eyed peas
No cabbage; let the months fall as they will:
Does the year fail, or is it we who fail?

 

Seventh Day in the Octave

 of Christmas II

Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunderstorm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.

-Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain

Does the year fail, or is it we who fail?

This Octave day opens in darkness cold
And on the radio the same cold news
That began this fading Gregorian year
And ends it, churned by a news-o-matic
To be poured into an old plastic cup
As steaming-hot clichés to be consumed
By the devout, obedient faithful
The faithful, who worship a falling light bulb
Does the year fail, or is it we who fail?

 

Seventh Day in the Octave

of Christmas III

“O moments big as years!”

-John Keats, "Hyperion"

Does the year fail, or is it we who fail?
This Octave day opens in darkness cold
And on the radio the same dark news
That began this fading Gregorian year
But let us face this next turn of the time
With Aves on our lips and in our hearts
With the cold courage of Crusaders
And the cool kindness of missionaries
And may God grant that never again we ask:
Does the year fail, or is it we who fail?