Many years ago, when I was freshly married and we were living in our first house out along the Susquehanna River, my wife and I sat down just before Christmas to write a poem to my grandmother Madigan, who was ailing but very determined. She lived just past 100 years.
Here is what we wrote:
“Of all the stars in heaven, that cast such tiny lights,
The Angels pick the brightest star to shine on Christmas night, to shine on Christmas night.
“The Cherubim were gathered on a cloud so soft and bright, they watched and searched the heavens, to find a star that bright, to shine on Christmas night.
“Though millions shined and twinkled and lighted up the earth, they could not find that special star to mark the place of birth.
“So they called in all the little stars that cast such tiny light, put them together, and said shine with all your might, and the shined with all their might,
So when Christmas Eve is darkest though some other stars seem bright,
The tiny stars in heaven, still shine with all their might.
They shine with all their might.
We sent it off with warmest greetings and then sort of forgot about it for a while. I put it to music in the 1980s and when my father heard it he said we should send it right off to Bing Crosby, which was his highest praise. Of course we did not.
But you can all have these words now in case you need them! Merry Christmas!
Charlie and Linda