Welcome, Yule!
And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!
-Susan Cooper
And outside the snow is falling, falling, and in it, one bright glow, one dancing light, one startled laugh, to be alive again. And the high horns pass and the low flute plays, and a vision of antlered men hovers in the spaces-between-thought, followed by the infinite ting... ting... ting... of a triangle behind the heels of the hunter-boy, the hobby-horse, and the man in woman's clothing. They come and go, the year comes and goes, and in its wake, a dead woman or a living man, or a dead man or a living woman, or a shadow with bells in its cap and a song that is silent because it is too loud for the universe to bear hearing yet. Men with swords behead Saint George. A dragon roars silent fire into the heavens. The stars spin, the visions fade, the snow breaks them into splinters and spreads them over the memory of mankind, the passion, the laughter, the rebirth echoed in the cycle of every heartbeat, felt like a pin in the guts of the old shed clothing of the past year. Out in the snow, a Fool is dancing.
Welcome, Yule.
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!
-Susan Cooper
And outside the snow is falling, falling, and in it, one bright glow, one dancing light, one startled laugh, to be alive again. And the high horns pass and the low flute plays, and a vision of antlered men hovers in the spaces-between-thought, followed by the infinite ting... ting... ting... of a triangle behind the heels of the hunter-boy, the hobby-horse, and the man in woman's clothing. They come and go, the year comes and goes, and in its wake, a dead woman or a living man, or a dead man or a living woman, or a shadow with bells in its cap and a song that is silent because it is too loud for the universe to bear hearing yet. Men with swords behead Saint George. A dragon roars silent fire into the heavens. The stars spin, the visions fade, the snow breaks them into splinters and spreads them over the memory of mankind, the passion, the laughter, the rebirth echoed in the cycle of every heartbeat, felt like a pin in the guts of the old shed clothing of the past year. Out in the snow, a Fool is dancing.
Welcome, Yule.