In many of the years of this blog, I have posted today about its being the shortest day of the year. Those of us who love daylight, as my dad did and I do, are delighted that now the days will start getting longer. This is doubtless an ancient human emotion, and long before people knew enough astronomy to know why the days change length as they do in an annual cycle, there were celebrations of this day for what it meant.
In many of my past posts, I have quoted (with permission from the author) a poem about this day that I like very much. That it resonates with me may not mean it does the same for you, but give it a read and see if you too enjoy it.
The author is Susan Cooper, author of a wonderful young-adult book called Over Sea, Under Stone, and later a fine five-book quest fantasy series, The Dark is Rising. In the 1970s, she became associated with the holiday celebrations called Revels, and wrote this poem as their closing piece for the each year’s event. (That’s whee I first heard it.) You can find it all over the web, often with changed punctuation and even substituted words! Imagine the gall!
As it happens, during the time I was a grad student in metallurgy at M.I.T., she was married to a faculty member in the department whom I knew, Prof. Nick Grant. Sometimes it does feel like a small world. I can remember attending some departmental social events where faculty and wives were present, but I don’t know whether any of them included Ms. Cooper.
She sent me a copy of the poem as she wrote it, so that it could be presented
correctly. (If you’d like to know more about her, please visit her web
site: http://www.thelostland.com/ .)
She also mentioned that she was happy to give permission for use in
this blog, as she is descended from three generations of English
railwaymen!
THE SHORTEST DAY
By Susan Cooper
So the shortest day came, and the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen,
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing, behind us -- listen!
All the long echoes sing the same delight
This shortest day
As promise wakens in the sleeping land.
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends, and hope for peace.
And so do we, here, now,
This year, and every year.
Welcome Yule!
A far more eloquent presentation of our traditions than I could ever have written. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Tony Thompson
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