Back in my childhood, as I've probably shared here many times, it seemed that Christmas lights were not seen as often as they are now. They were very special. I loved the candoliers on the window sills of my grandmother's farmhouse, the tall lighted tree downtown on the common, and most especially the Christmas lights we would see near the cities and larger towns as we traveled home from a trip to deliver gifts to family in another part of our state.
Here is the poem, by Mamie Ozburn Odum:
They shine in spires and windows golden;
Myriads of lights like curtains rise.
In the festooned tree, the stars enfolden
Reflect the softened beauty of the skies.
Homes are bedecked in all their glory,
With twinkling lights above the arching door;
The shadows in the distance hover
As tree-decked hues sparkle the more.
The Christmas lights like gems are glowing,
Encased in quaintest filigree,
While softened winter winds are blowing
The chimes of Christmas bells to me.
As as the bright lights shine and glisten
And children sing, O lovely band,
"Glory to God in the Highest",
The caroling notes spread o'er the land.
And as we join the past and future,
Our hearts in sweet remembrance rise,
No deed can dim the glorious vision,
For the sweet old story never dies.
~ Mamie Ozburn Odum
It seems at this point in history that many would like to "dim the glorious vision" in our land and in our world. But no matter what attempt is made, let's be comforted that "the sweet old story never dies."