Other formats

    TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 11, Issue 9 (December 1, 1936)

The Miracle Month

The Miracle Month.

December! The season of sorcery, the birth of mirth; the witching weft of wizardry—the month of miracles

For the age of miracles is not past. In December the magic of the month works miracles in the minds of men and—lo!—where there was moth and rust there is mirth and roist, where there was drudgery there is drollery, where there was “pip” there is “pep.” The heart bowed down is buoyed up, the lame-in-spirit shake a leg, the “broke” are mended, the “groper” is a flying-fish, the down-hearted are upended, and over the face of nature is spread a smile that hurries on from horizon to horizon. Human capacity for food and frivolity extends beyond belief. Throat and heart are opened to give and to receive.

What is this magic that has bewitched the minds of men so that their eyes are opened and they see that there's wisdom in folly and rebirth in revelry?

What thing is this a' happening while we gaze
Through eyes that blink and flutter in amaze,
What magic has encompassed all mankind
And wrought such transmutation in his mind?
What wizardry is this that, in a flash,
Has bent his thoughts from barter, bills, and cash;
And torn his nose from grindstones rude and rough—
What is the magic meaning of such stuff?
What makes him skip as though his thews and bones
Were made of springs from clocks and gramophones?
What meaning is there to the circumstance
That there's a lilt of laughter in his glance,
That something seems to light his words with wit—
Although, of course, we don't suggest he's “lit”?
What jovial germ has lodged within his pelt,
To make his armour-plating thus to melt?
What magic is it that, as we remember,
Transmogrifies his ego each December
Until, instead of what he is, we see
The kind of cuss he always ought to be?