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[Coleridge's poem for Christmas is anagrammed into 12 poems about 12 moments in an entire lifetime (each in a different month of the year); the anagram also contains a visual constraint for New Year's Eve, displayed below it]
A Christmas Carol
Written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung,
A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.
II
They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother's song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.
IV
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?
V
And is not War a youthful king,
A stately Hero clad in mail?
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail
Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.
VI
Tell this in some more courtly scene,
To maids and youths in robes of state!
I am a woman poor and mean,
And wherefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father's tears his child!
VII
A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
He kills the sire and starves the son;
The husband kills, and from her board
Steals all his widow's toil had won;
Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII
Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I'm poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!
January
My mother holds me tight
To shield me from the chill
When early Winter light
Shines on the window sill.
An orchid in her arms,
I'll be all safe from harm.
February
As heathers gently sway,
I get my minor wish:
To go out for a day
With dad to net a fish.
That bay with haddock rife
I will adore for life.
March
The iris of her eye;
Her hair that's semi-dense;
Her laughter and her sigh -
They baffle every sense...
Such is the nature of
The first, and final, love.
April
I stand here in a heath
And see her heading down
Amid begonia wreaths,
Dressed in a classic gown.
The ornamental doves
Elucidate my love.
May
As lilies scent the air,
Our baby loves to thrash
In big-boy clothes and chair,
His bib now stained with mash,
His rattle echoing
The messengers of Spring.
June
Herbs, blooms and greens are dead
And taint the garden view;
Above my blistered head,
The sun comes shining through.
My bluebells sadly prove
That Summer made its move.
July
The daisies line the gate
Of his new school of art;
The little boy came late -
It was too hard to part.
We madly try to mend
A bond about to end.
August
The thistle-thorns of gloom
Do nettle as I stroll
Through his near-empty room -
He's off to reach his goals.
No noise to haunt the halls;
We are alone this Fall.
September
A second tour of France
Shows love could prosper still -
The forces of romance
Healed us like super-pills.
The asters near the Seine
Restore my soul again.
October
I'm chuffed to proudly pat
These cheeks, so plump and cute!
No rose is red like that;
It's godsent, simply put:
If our mood's spent or poor,
A grandson is the cure.
November
Here - in this private place
On one enchanted hill -
I load her graveside vase
With dainty daffodils.
Each time I stop to weep
It cuts, the pain too deep.
December
I shiver with a smirk
And watch when they are shot:
The decent fireworks
Fall like forget-me-nots.
I'll meet her soon at last...
The time for prayers has passed.
[The minor poetical constraint is that each poem also mentions a different flower. But the visual one appears once all of the b's (blue) and p's (pink) inside the poems are colored accordingly and the poems are then animated - which allows us to end the year with a tiny bit of fireworks :)]
