Irish poet, Patrick Kavanagh’s poem, ‘A Christmas Childhood’ is probably one of the most quoted of Christmas poems from Ireland. Kavanagh was from County Monaghan and his rural upbringing greatly influenced his writing style and themes. He had a unique ability to provide insights on country life. Much of his writings described life at the start of the 20th century in Ireland. Read on to find out why!

Patrick Kavanagh died on November 30, 1967. This occurred shortly after he saw a performance of one of his plays, Tarry Flynn, in Dundalk, County Louth. That play was based on the poet’s  semi-autobiographical novel of the same name. Some of his most famous other writings include ‘On Raglan Road’. This song was made famous by Luke Kelly’s definite rendition. It was chosen as Ireland’s favourite folk song in an RTÉ National contest in May 2019. The long and once-banned poem ‘The Great Hunger’ was another well-known work of his.

In the favorite ‘Christmas Childhood’ poem, the poet reminisces on past winters of his childhood. The famous poem uses themes of memory and imagination of rural Ireland scenes, ‘the tracks of cattle to a drinking-place’. The first four stanzas were written in 1943. They take the reader through a series of memories from a speaker’s childhood. This section of the poem is filled with nostalgia for rural, farming and family life – ‘my father played the melodion outside at our gate’. The second part of the poem was written three years earlier in 1940. His memories come to us through Christian imagery, imagery from the story of the birth of Jesus. Back then Kavanagh felt loneliness and solitude after arriving in an un-hospitable city of Dublin.   

Kavanagh’s poem contains some beautiful Irish Seasonal memories and images. He uses amazing colorful and figurative language, which adequately paints a picture of his youth. It also shows what it meant to be a child growing up in Ireland back then. One must recognize, however, that in the intervening years, modern Irish culture has completely changed. The poem’s themes are difficult to relate to contemporary Irish experiences.

We encourage community engagement and invite our readers to share their own memories of childhood in Ireland. Alternatively, share your memories of rural life where you grew up!

A Christmas Childhood

by Patrick Kavanagh

One side of the potato-pits was white with frost –
How wonderful that was, how wonderful!
And when we put our ears to the paling-post
The music that came out was magical.

The light between the ricks of hay and straw
Was a hole in Heaven’s gable. An apple tree
With its December-glinting fruit we saw –
O you, Eve, were the world that tempted me.

To eat the knowledge that grew in clay
And death the germ within it! Now and then
I can remember something of the gay
Garden that was childhood’s. Again.

The tracks of cattle to a drinking-place,
A green stone lying sideways in a ditch,
Or any common sight, the transfigured face
Of a beauty that the world did not touch.

My father played the melodion
Outside at our gate;
There were stars in the morning east
And they danced to his music.

Across the wild bogs his melodion called
To Lennons and Callans.
As I pulled on my trousers in a hurry
I knew some strange thing had happened.

Outside in the cow-house my mother
Made the music of milking;
The light of her stable-lamp was a star
And the frost of Bethlehem made it twinkle.

A water-hen screeched in the bog,
Mass-going feet
Crunched the wafer-ice on the pot-holes,
Somebody wistfully twisted the bellows wheel.

My child poet picked out the letters
On the grey stone,
In silver the wonder of a Christmas townland,
The winking glitter of a frosty dawn.

Cassiopeia was over
Cassidy’s hanging hill,
I looked and three whin bushes rode across
The horizon — the Three Wise Kings.

And old man passing said:
‘Can’t he make it talk –
The melodion.’ I hid in the doorway
And tightened the belt of my box-pleated coat.

I nicked six nicks on the door-post
With my penknife’s big blade –
there was a little one for cutting tobacco.
And I was six Christmases of age.

My father played the melodion,
My mother milked the cows,
And I had a prayer like a white rose pinned
On the Virgin Mary’s blouse.

From our collaborators Facebook group Devotees of Patrick Kavanagh