The solstice is here, a season when the light comes out of darkness. Festivities recognizing this time of year date back very far in human history, & of course, at least since the Fourth Century C.E., the Christian church has also celebrated the birth of Jesus at this time of year (it appears that this practice probably didn’t much pre-date the Fourth Century, as some earlier Church Fathers specifically prohibited any type of winter holidays).
One of the most beautiful carols celebrating this was the product of an odd collaboration; the lyrics are a poem by the very much underrated 19th century poet Christina Rossetti (pictured at the top of the post), with music added by Gustav Holst in the early 20th century—the poem has also been set to music by Harold Darke, Thomas Strong & Benjamin Britten.
The video below is yours truly playing a guitar arrangement by Doug Sparling of Holst’s setting (I made a few interpolations, but almost all of the arrangement is Sparling’s). The arrangement is for guitar in the DADGAD tuning—so called because those are the notes of the open strings, as opposed to EADGBE in standard tuning. The DADGAD tuning is particularly used by fingerstyle guitarists exploring British Isles folk music—the open strings taken as a whole are a “suspended chord”—one that is neither major nor minor, but hovering somewhere in between. It’s a lovely tuning, & one that loves to have open strings ringing.
I’ve also included the words to Rossetti’s beautiful poem after the video. But if you’re singing along, watch out! The poem is five stanzas long, & I only play the song thru three times. Hope you enjoy this.
In the Bleak Mindwinter
In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
Long ago.
Our God, heaven cannot hold him,
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign;
In the bleak midwinter
A stable place sufficed
The Lord God incarnate,
Jesus Christ.
Enough for him, whom Cherubim
Worship night and day
A breast full of milk
And a manger full of hay.
Enough for him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.
Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But his mother only,
In her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.
What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him —
Give my heart.
Christina Rossetti