The day's at end and there's nowhere to go, <br />Draw to the fire, even this fire is dying; <br />Get up and once again politely lying <br />Invite the ladies toward the mistletoe <br />With greedy eyes that stare like an old crow. <br />How pleasantly the holly wreaths did hang <br />And how stuffed Santa did his reindeer clang <br />Above the golden oaken mantel, years ago! <br /> <br />Then hang this picture for a calendar, <br />As sheep for goat, and pray most fixedly <br />For the cold martial progress of your star, <br />With thoughts of commerce and society, <br />Well-milked Chinese, Negroes who cannot sing, <br />The Huns gelded and feeding in a ring.<br /><br />Allen Tate<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/more-sonnets-at-christmas-ii/
