Welcome back to the Daily Poem here on the Close Freaks Podcast Network. I'm David Kern.

Today is December 18th, 2019. And today's poem is by a Scottish novelist, travel writer, poet,

children's author, Robert Louis Stevenson. He lived from 1850 to 1894. And I know that

he is a beloved poet and storyteller among many of our younger listeners. And so today I wanted to share

one of his Christmas-themed poems. It is called Christmas at sea, and this is how it goes.

The sheets were frozen and hard, and they cut the naked hand.

The decks were like a slide where a seaman scarce could stand.

The wind was a norwester, blowing squally off the sea,

and cliffs and spouting breakers were the only

things, Ali. They heard the surfer roaring before the break of day, which was only with a peep

of light we saw how ill we lay. We tumbled every hand on deck instant her with a shout, and we

gave her the main topsail and stood by

to go about. All day we tacked and tacked between the south head and the north. All day we hauled the

frozen sheets and got no further forth. All day as cold as charity in bitter pain and dread for

very life and nature we tacked from head to head.

We gave the south a wider berth, for there the tide race roared.

We gave the south a wider berth, for there the tide race roared.

But every tack we made, we brought the north head close aboard. So as we saw the cliffs and

houses and the breakers running high, and the coast yard in his garden with glass against his eye.

The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam. The good red fires were burning bright

in every longshore home.

The windows sparkled clear and the chimneys volleied out,

...