"Candlemas (A Song)" by John Henry Newman

Today, after the late Mass, my wife and I needed to do some grocery shopping. While we were at the store making our way down the isle, me pushing the cart, she said to me- "When we get back into the car, I am going to read to you." My response was something like, "Uh, okay."

After finishing our shopping and loading the groceries into the back of the vehicle, we got in and started to drive. As I turned out of the parking lot, she started: "'Candlemas,' by John Henry Newman..." It is poem written by the person most responsible for my conversion. I must admit that apart from "Lead Kindly Light" (a poem I have turned to often in troubled times) and "The Dream of Gerontius," I am not very familiar with Newman's poems. "Candlemas" was new to me.

As I listened, having just celebrated Candlemas, complete with the blessing and lighting of candles and a procession into the Church, the words of this poem landed very tenderly on my heart.

Without too much more ado, I want to share Cardinal Newman's poem to bring today's lovely Feast to a close:

Candlemas (A Song)

The Angel-lights of Christmas morn,
      Which shot across the sky,
Away they pass at Candlemas,
      They sparkle and they die.

Comfort of earth is brief at best,
      Although it be divine;
Like funeral lights for Christmas gone,
      Old Simeon’s tapers shine.

Simeon in the Temple, Rembrandt, 1669

And then for eight long weeks and more,
      We wait in twilight grey,
Till the high candle sheds a beam
      On Holy Saturday.

We wait along the penance-tide
      Of solemn fast and prayer;
While song is hush’d, and lights grow dim
      In the sin-laden air.

And while the sword in Mary’s soul
      Is driven home, we hide
In our own hearts, and count the wounds
      Of passion and of pride.

And still, though Candlemas be spent
      And Alleluias o’er,
Mary is music in our need,
      And Jesus light in store. (The Oratory 1849)