在手机上保存，获得更好体验
Christmas - Sir John Betjeman
The bells of waiting Advent ring
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green
The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge
The altar font and arch and pew
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day
Provincial Public Houses blaze
Corporation tramcars clang
On lighted tenements I gaze
Where paper decorations hang
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'
And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon haunted classic towers
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many steepled London sky
And girls in slacks remember Dad
And oafish louts remember Mum
And sleepless children's hearts are glad
And Christmas morning bells say come
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel
And is it true
And is it true
This most tremendous tale of all
Seen in a stained glass window's hue
A Baby in an ox's stall
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me
And is it true
For if it is
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies
The sweet and silly Christmas things
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant
No love that in a family dwells
No carolling in frosty air
Nor all the steeple shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine
