'hark! midnight from the church tower vibrates through the frosty air. i look out on the brilliant heaven, and see a milky way of powdery splendour wandering through it, and clusters and knots of stars and planets shining serenely in the blue frosty spaces; and the armed apparition of orion, his spear pointing away into immeasurable space, gleaming overhead; and the familiar constellation of the plough dipping down into the west; and i think when i go in again that there is one christmas the less between me and my grave.'you'll understand that parenthetical bit if/when you read it, but it's still quite good, imbued with meditative seasonal consciousness and a well-developed sense of memory. also: milton.
-- alexander smith, 'christmas' (ft. christian imperialism interlude), 1863.
-- michelle tea, the chelsea whistle
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