Christmas Roses — Reading Notes

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Lawson, Lizzie, Mack, Robert Ellice Project Gutenberg 2008 Not confirmed
Children's poetry; Picture books for children; Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile poetry Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words 5,242
Reading time 23 min
Text sections 1

Before opening Christmas Roses — Reading Notes, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 5,242 words, 23 min estimated reading time, and 1 detected text section.

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This editorial note examines the shifting narrative voice and rhythmic patterns in Lizzie Lawson and Robert Ellice Mack's Christmas Roses, a Victorian children's poetry collection. Observations focus on the transition from first-person intimacy to third-person storytelling, the use of repetition and rhyme to create a lullaby-like cadence, and the contrast between domestic comfort and external winter harshness.
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Editorial Edition Score 4.4/5

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Produced by K. Nordquist, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

London: Griffith, Farran & Company St. Paul's Churchyard.

_A BUNCH_ of Christmas Roses, dear, To greet my fairest child, I plucked them in my garden where The drifting snow lay piled.

I cannot bring thee violets dear, Or cowslips growing wild, Or daisy chain for thee to wear, For thee to wear, my child.

For all the grassy meadows near Are clad with snow, my child; Through all the days of winter drear No ray of sun has smiled.

I plucked this bunch of verses, dear, From out my garden wild, I plucked them in the winter drear For you, my fairest child, Your wet and wintry hours to cheer, They're Christmas Roses, child.

_THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING._

"_I DON'T_ believe that Santa Claus will come to you and me," Said little crippled Nell, "a'cause, we are so poor you see; And then I don't believe the 'chimbley's' wide enough for him, D'ye think that Santa Claus will come, when all the lights are dim." "Of course he comes to every one, dear, whether rich or poor; Now go to bed dear Nell," said Nan, "he'll come to-night I'm sure."

I don't know if by chimney or if by stair he crept, But sure enough he visited the room where Nelly slept. He brought a golden orange, and a monkey red and blue, That climbed a little wooden stick in a way I couldn't do. He hung them in Nell's stocking, and Nan was right, be sure, That Santa Claus loves every one however rich or poor.

"_I HAVE_ a little Bunny with a coat as soft as down, And nearly all of him is white except one bit of brown. The first thing in the morning when I get out of bed, I wonder if my Bunny's still safe in his little shed.

And than the next thing that I do I dare say you have guessed; It's to go at once and see him, when I am washed and dressed. And every day I see him I like him more and more, And each day he is bigger than he was the day before.

I feed him in the morning with bran and bits of bread, And every night I take some straw to make his little bed. What with carrots in the morning and turnip-tops for tea, If a bunny can be happy, I'm sure he ought to be.

Then when it's nearly bedtime I go down to his shed, And say 'Good night you Bunny' before I go to bed. I think there's only one thing that would make me happy quite, If I could take my Bunny dear with me to bed at night?"

_IT'S_ Father's boat we're watching, Away out on the sea, She's named the Pretty Polly, One hundred and ninety three, Father called her the Polly, After Mother and me.

There isn't a smarter boat Than Father's on the sea, The Pretty Polly is _our_ ship, Father's the skipper is he, And we are watching for Father, We're watching, Nancy and me.

Sometimes the wind blows wildly, But Nancy, and Mother, and me, We sing a bit of a hymn we know, The hymn for those at sea, Although when we think of Father, We're as near to choke as can be.

To-night the moon will be shining, A sight it will be to see, Father's ship all in silver, A'sail on a silver sea, And Father himself a coming home To Mother and Nancy and me.

"_MY_ dears, whatever are you at? You ought to be at home; I told you not to wet your feet-- I told you not to roam.

"Oh, dear! I'm sure you will be drowned! _I_ never saw such tricks Come home at once, and go to bed, You naughty naughty chicks."

Now most of them were five days old, But one, whose age was six-- "Please, ma'am," said he, "I think we're ducks; I don't believe we're chicks!"

"_Who's_ afraid of a cat?" said he; "I'm not afraid of a cat." He was a bird who sat on a rail, With five other birds, and this was his tale. "I'm not afraid of a cat."

"I _might_ be afraid if I were a mouse, Or even if I were a rat: But as I'm a bird I give you my word I'm not afraid of a cat."

A cat and her kits came down on the scene, Five birds flew over the rail; Our hero was caught As quick as a thought, And didn't he alter his tale!

Christmas Roses opens with a first-person speaker who addresses a child directly, establishing an intimate, almost lullaby-like tone. The speaker claims to have plucked a “bunch of Christmas Roses” from a garden where snow lay piled, immediately juxtaposing the warmth of the gift with the cold of winter. This initial poem sets a pattern of repetition and end-rhyme that recurs throughout the collection, creating a steady, comforting rhythm. However, as the book progresses, the narrative voice shifts: later poems adopt a third-person perspective or a child’s own voice, as in “The Christmas Stocking,” where little crippled Nell speaks in dialect (“a’cause,” “chimbley”). This variation in voice and pace—from the measured, adult address of the opening to the more colloquial, childlike speech of later verses—gives the collection a layered texture, moving between instruction and empathy.

Rhythmic Repetition and Lullaby Cadence

The opening poem relies heavily on parallel structure and refrain. Lines such as “I plucked them in my garden where / The drifting snow lay piled” and “I plucked this bunch of verses, dear” mirror each other, reinforcing the speaker’s protective, nurturing role. The repeated phrase “my child” at the end of each stanza acts as a rhythmic anchor, slowing the pace and creating a soothing effect. This technique is not confined to the first poem; in “Father’s Boat,” the refrain “We’re watching, Nancy and me” appears twice, and the hymn-like repetition of “Father” and “Nancy” gives the poem a chant-like quality. The regularity of the meter—mostly iambic tetrameter and trimeter—further contributes to a predictable, comforting cadence suitable for reading aloud to children. Yet within this regularity, small variations occur: in “The Pet Rabbit,” the line “I think there’s only one thing that would make me happy quite” breaks the pattern with an extra syllable, momentarily quickening the pace before the final couplet.

Shifts in Narrative Voice and Perspective

While the opening poem uses a first-person adult speaker, later poems adopt different voices. “The Christmas Stocking” introduces a child’s direct speech, complete with dialectal contractions (“a’cause,” “chimbley”), which gives the poem a more immediate, dramatic quality. The narrator then steps back in the second stanza, using third-person (“He brought a golden orange”) to describe Santa’s visit. This shift from child’s voice to omniscient narrator creates a change in pace: the child’s lines are shorter, more breathless, while the narrator’s lines are more measured. Similarly, “Father’s Boat” uses a collective first-person (“we’re watching, Nancy and me”) that includes the reader in the family’s anxious waiting. The poem’s pace slows with the repeated “we’re watching” and the hymn-like line “We sing a bit of a hymn we know,” then quickens with the choked emotion of “We’re as near to choke as can b[?].” These shifts in perspective prevent the collection from becoming monotonous, offering varied emotional registers.

Domestic Comfort Versus External Harshness

A recurring structural tension in Christmas Roses is the contrast between the safety of home and the harshness of the outside world. The opening poem explicitly sets this up: the garden is covered with snow, “no ray of sun has smiled,” yet the speaker offers a “bunch of verses” as a source of warmth. In “The Christmas Stocking,” the children’s poverty and the narrow chimney are obstacles, but Santa’s visit overcomes them, bringing a golden orange and a toy monkey. The poem ends with a moral affirmation that Santa “loves every one however rich or poor.” “Father’s Boat” extends this contrast to the sea: the father is away on a ship named “Pretty Polly,” and the family watches from home, singing a hymn for those at sea. The wind blows wildly, but the domestic scene of Nancy, Mother, and the speaker provides a counterpoint. This pattern of threat and reassurance, repeated across poems, gives the collection a coherent emotional arc, even as the voices and subjects change.

Readers approaching Christmas Roses will find a collection that rewards attention to its shifting voices and rhythmic patterns. The poems are best read aloud, as the cadences and repetitions are designed for oral delivery. Notice how the adult speaker of the opening gives way to children’s own words and how the meter occasionally breaks to signal emotional intensity. The contrast between indoor safety and outdoor danger recurs, but each poem handles it differently. These variations in pace and perspective make the book more than a simple set of moral lessons; they create a dynamic reading experience that reflects the uncertainties and comforts of a Victorian childhood.

There’s a moment in Christmas Roses when the lullaby cadence slips almost imperceptibly into third-person observation, and I always pause there, a little wistful, as if watching a child drift off mid-song. The same quiet shift haunts the pages of Mountain Idylls, and Other Poems — Reading Notes, where warmth and winter hold their breath together. Some rhythms just stay with you.

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