Let us not forget . . .

At this time of year in the Northern Hemisphere, many are without shelter -- and are cold.  Let us think of them  -- as Cecil Day-Lewis (1904-1972) does in "A Carol" below (a poem whose lines for the most part maintain an alternating 6-5 syllable count and which contains the small number two).  Let us remember to share our warmth.

       A Carol     by Cecil Day-Lewis 

       Oh hush thee, my baby,
       Thy cradle's in pawn:
       No blankets to cover thee
       Cold and forlorn.
       The stars in the bright sky
       Look down and are dumb
       At the heir of the ages
       Asleep in a slum.
  
       The hooters are blowing,
       No heed let him take;
       When baby is hungry
       'Tis best not to wake.
       Thy mother is crying,
       Thy dad's on the dole:
       Two shillings a week is
       The price of a soul. 

I have found "A Carol" in Christmas Poems:  Selected and edited by John Hollander and J. D. McClatchy (Knopf, 1999).