Welcome back to the Daily Poem here on the Close Reefs Podcast Network. I'm David Coole. Today is December 23rd, 2019.

And before I read today's poem, which is by Robert Bridges, an English poet who lived from 1844 to

1930, I want to remind you about our competition, our contest for our younger listeners.

The deadline to enter that is December 31st,

so it's a little over a week. And remember that you need to include the hashtag TDP Ballad,

T-D-B-A-L-L-A-D, along with your image, wherever you post at Instagram, Twitter,

or Facebook, wherever it is. Just make sure that you include that hashtag so that we can sort

through them more easily.

Look forward to seeing all those illustrations and picking some winners from the different age groups. But let's turn to today's poet. This is Robert Bridges. He lived from 1844 to 1930,

as I said, and he was Britain's Poet Laureate from 1913 to 1930. And interestingly, he was one of the reasons that Gerard

Manley Hopkins achieved some fame after his death. And the poem that I'm going to read today is called

Noel Christmas Eve, 1913. This is how it goes. A frosty Christmas Eve, when the stars were

shining, fared I forth alone, where westward

falls the hill. And from many a village in the watered valley, distant music reached me, peals of bells

are ringing. The constellated sounds ran sprinkling on earth's floor, as the dark vault above

with stars was Spangledore. Then sped my thought to keep that first Christmas of all,

when the shepherds watching by their folds ere the dawn heard music in the fields,

and marveling could not tell whether it were angels or the bright stars singing.

Now blessed be the towers that crowned England so fair that stand up strong in prayer unto

God for our souls.

Blessed be their founders, said I, and our country folk who are ringing for Christ in

the Belfries tonight with arms lifted to clutch the rattling ropes that race into the dark

...