The Christmas Robin
The snows of February had buried Christmas
Deep in the woods, where grew self-seeded
The fir-trees of a Christmas yet unknown,
Without a candle or a strand of tinsel.
Nevertheless when, hand in hand, plodding
Between the frozen ruts, we lovers paused
And ‘Christmas trees!’ cried suddenly together,
Christmas was there again, as in December.
We velveted our love with fantasy
Down a long vista-row of Christmas trees,
Whose coloured candles slowly guttered down
As grandchildren came trooping round our knees.
But he knew better, did the Christmas robin —
The murderous robin with his breast aglow
And legs apart, in a spade-handle perched:
He prophesied more snow, and worse than snow.
Robert Graves, Collected Poems (1938).
A wonderful seasonal poem evocative of deep winter.
We have our own garden Robin probably we see regularly even in winter. He is tame, follows us around our back garden and almost like one of the family. 🙂
Our garden Robin
The legend of the Christmas Robin
On that first Christmas, the night was bitterly cold.
Mother Mary worried that her so special baby sleeping in the manger within the small stable in Bethlehem would be cold as the fire was small and dying out. She turned to the animals surrounding her and asked them for help.
“Could you blow on the embers,” she asked the ox, “so the fire might continue to keep my son warm?”
But the ox lay deeply asleep on the stable floor and did not hear her.
Mary then asked the donkey to breathe life back into the fire, but the donkey was also deep asleep. The horse or sheep could not help. She wondered what to do.
A flutter of tiny wings was heard by Mary. Looking up, she saw a plain, brown-coloured little robin fly into the stall. This robin had heard the call of Mary and had come to help her.
He flew over to the dying fire and flapped his wings as hard as he could.
His wings became little bellows, blowing air onto the embers, which began to glow bright red again. He continued fanning the fire, singing all the while, until the ashes began to kindle.
The Robin hopped around looking for dry fresh twigs and sticks. Using his beak, he tossed them into the fire. A bright strong red flame suddenly burst up and burned the little bird’s breast a bright red. The Robin ignored the burn and continued to fan the fire until it flamed higher crackled brightly and warmed the whole stable. The Baby Jesus slept happily.
Mary was so grateful & thankfully praised the robin for all his valuable efforts. She looked on tenderly at his red breast, burned by the flame, and said “From now on, let your red breast be a blessed reminder of your noble deed.”
And to this day, the robin’s red breast covers his humble and noble heart.
