Day 360 – boxing day

When I was a kid I always thought that boxing day was the day you had to pack all your new toys back into the box and not touch them, just to make sure you were really grateful for what you got for Christmas. It sounds like something an older sibling would put me up to, but I remember my mum just playing along with it, while I sat staring wistfully at my box of new toys. Eventually I would cave and beg mum to let me play with just ONE.

As I got a little bit older I was told that boxing day had something to do with boxing kangaroos. Today is the day they would meet up in the bush and have a boxing match.

Today I spend a few blissful minutes with Alfred Lord Tennyson, reading one of my favourite love poems, The Miller’s Daughter. I think if I create a new tradition for boxing day, it would be to read a poem in silence. That would tick a box for me.

 

A love-song I had somewhere read,

An echo from a measured strain,

Beat time to nothing in my head

From some odd corner of the brain.

It haunted me, the morning long,

With weary sameness in the rhymes,

The phantom of a silent song,

That went and came a thousand times.

A trifle, sweet! which true love spells

True love interprets right alone.

His light upon the letter dwells,

For all the spirit is his own.

So, if I waste words now, in truth

You must blame Love. His early rage

Had force to make me rhyme in youth

And makes me talk too much in age.

– Alfred Lord Tennyson, The Miller’s Daughter

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