Unknown
I.
No more, with glad and happy cheer,
And smiling face, doth Christmas come,
But usher’d in with sword and spear,
And beat of the barbarian drum!
No more, with ivy-circled brow,
And mossy beard all snowy white,
He comes to glad the children now,
With sweet and innocent delight.
II.
The merry dance, the lavish feast,
The cheery welcome, all are o’er:
The music of the viol ceased,
The gleesome ring around the floor.
No glad communion greets the hour,
That welcomes in a Saviour’s birth,
And Christmas, to a hostile power,
Yields all the sway that made its mirth.
III.
The Church, like some deserted bride,
In trembling, at the Altar waits,
While, raging fierce on every side,
The foe is thundering at her gates.
No ivy green, nor glittering leaves,
Nor crimson berries, deck her walls:
But blood, red dripping from her eaves,
Along the sacred pavement falls.
IV.
Her silver bells no longer chime
In summons to her sacred home;
Nor holy song at matin prime,
Proclaims the God within the dome.
Nor do the fireside’s happy bands
Assemble fond, with greetings dear,
While Patriarch Christmas spreads his hands
To glad with gifts and crown with cheer.
V.
In place of that beloved form,
Benignant, bland, and blessing all,
Comes one begirt with fire and storm,
The raging shell, the hissing ball!
Type of the Prince of Peace, no more,
Evoked by those who bear His name,
THE FIEND, in place of SAINT of yore,
Now hurls around Satanic flame.
VI.
In hate,–evoked by kindred lands,
But late beslavering with caress,
Lo, Moloch, dripping crimson, stands,
And curses where he cannot bless.
He wings the bolt and hurls the spear,
A _demon loosed_, that rends in rage,
Sends havoc through the homes most dear,
And butchers youth and tramples age!
VII.
With face of Fox–with glee that grins,
And apish arms, with fingers claw’d,
To snatch at all his brother wins,
And straight secrete, with stealth and fraud;–
Lo! Mammon, kindred Demon, comes,
And lurks, as dreading ill, in rear;
He blows the trumpet, beats the drums,
Inflames the torch, and sharps the spear!
VIII.
And furious, following in their train,
What hosts of lesser Demons rise;
Lust, Malice, Hunger, Greed and Gain,
Each raging for its special prize.
Too base for freedom, mean for toil,
And reckless all of just and right,
They rage in peaceful homes for spoil,
And where they cannot butcher, blight.
IX.
A Serpent lie from every mouth,
Coils outward ever,–sworn to bless;
Yet, through the gardens of the South,
Still spreading evils numberless,
By locust swarms the fields are swept,
By frenzied hands the dwelling flames,
And virgin beds, where Beauty slept,
Polluted blush, from worst of shames.
X.
The Dragon, chain’d for thousand years,
Hath burst his bonds and rages free;–
Yet, patience, brethren, stay your fears;–
Loosed for “a little season,”[1] he
Will soon, beneath th’ Ithuriel sword,
Of heavenly judgment, crush’d and driven,
Yield to the vengeance of the Lord,
And crouch beneath the wrath of Heaven!
XI.
“A little season,” and the Peace,
That now is foremost in your prayers,
Shall crown your harvest with increase,
And bless with smiles the home of tears;
Your wounds be healed; your noble sons,
Unhurt, unmutilated–free–
Shall limber up their conquering guns,
In triumph grand of Liberty!
XII.
A few more hours of mortal strife,–
Of faith and patience, working still,
In struggle for the immortal life,
With all their soul, and strength, and will;
And, in the favor of the Lord,
And powerful grown by heavenly aid,
Your roof trees all shall be restored,
And ye shall triumph in their shade.
[1] “1. And I saw an Angel come down from Heaven, having the key of the
bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand.
“2. And he laid hold on the Dragon, that Old Serpent, which is the Devil
and Satan, and bound him a thousand years.
“And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal
upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand
years should be fulfilled; and _after that he must be loosed a little
season_.”–Rev. xx., v. 1-3.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem takes a familiar and comforting symbol, Christmas, and deliberately strips it of everything people expect it to represent. It opens by announcing loss rather than celebration. Christmas no longer arrives with warmth, generosity, or joy, but with weapons, drums, and violence. That contrast drives the entire poem. The holiday is used as a measure of how deeply war has invaded daily life and belief, not just the battlefield.
The early stanzas focus on absence. Dancing, feasting, music, and family gatherings are all gone. The speaker does not linger on nostalgia for its own sake; instead, each missing custom becomes evidence of how completely war has displaced peace. Even religious observance is broken. Christmas is no longer tied to the birth of Christ but has been overtaken by a “hostile power.” The loss here is not just emotional, but spiritual. Faith itself feels under siege.
That idea becomes explicit when the church is described as a deserted bride. This image suggests abandonment, vulnerability, and violation. The church waits at the altar while enemies rage outside, and the traditional decorations of the season are replaced by blood. This is one of the poem’s more direct accusations: war has not merely interrupted worship, it has defiled it. Sacred space offers no protection, and religious symbols no longer function as comfort.
As the poem continues, it grows more aggressive and symbolic. Christmas, once associated with peace, is replaced by figures of destruction. The “Prince of Peace” is no longer evoked; instead, demons take center stage. Moloch, Mammon, and a host of lesser demons are named and personified. These figures represent violence, greed, and moral corruption rather than specific armies. By doing this, the poem frames the war as something beyond human conflict. It becomes a cosmic struggle between good and evil, where the enemy is not just political but fundamentally demonic.
This choice removes ambiguity. The opposing force is not misguided or even cruel, but monstrous. Lust, greed, hunger, and malice are said to roam freely, attacking homes and families. The poem dwells on destruction of domestic and intimate spaces, which reinforces the idea that war has crossed every boundary. Nothing is spared, not even innocence or privacy. The language here is harsh and graphic, meant to provoke outrage rather than sorrow.
Despite the darkness, the poem does not end in despair. The final sections shift toward endurance and eventual justice. The dragon imagery from Revelation introduces the idea that this chaos is temporary. The phrase “a little season” frames suffering as something allowed by God but strictly limited. This is meant to steady readers, encouraging patience and faith rather than doubt. Victory is promised not just in military terms, but as restoration: healed wounds, unharmed sons, rebuilt homes.
As a war poem, this piece functions as both lament and reassurance. It acknowledges devastation honestly, especially the loss of tradition and faith’s comfort, but it refuses to accept that loss as permanent. Its strength lies in how thoroughly it connects war to everyday life and belief, showing how conflict reshapes even sacred time. Its weakness, depending on the reader, is its reliance on absolute moral certainty. By casting the enemy entirely as demons, the poem leaves no room for complexity or reflection on shared humanity. Still, within its purpose, it succeeds. It is meant to harden resolve, explain suffering, and promise that even a ruined Christmas will one day be redeemed.