Chapter 4 - Midst Days Too Short And Nights Too Long Poem by Brian D Griffin

Midst days too short and nights too long
The king was ill at ease
The Holidays had come and gone
Twas nothing left but freeze

Twas too long till the green of spring
And regal King's high Ball
What was his Majesty to do
To bring his land a thaw

Perhaps a brief excursion then
A lesser type affair
Just something that could break the mood
Push back the frigid air.

A Winterfest the King declared
So once more to the call
The nobles and the common folk
Came blithely to the hall

Through icy chill and winter's blast
They gathered in their hall
Midst winter's worst they gave their best
A Winterfest for all

The royal hall was beamish bright
Bedecked in white array
They came to turn a long dark night
Into a sun filled day

Midst Jokers, Jesters, Clowns and fools
The merriment began
The nobles marched into the hall
A courtly splendid strand

They marched in all their finery
Their Majesties in tow
All stood and watched as they marched in
In waves and row on row

His Majesty then welcomed all
And spoke to all those there
Of games and dances, food and drink
A winter's eve affair

With food from vendors on the street
And drinks in every hand
Some in garments of their homes
In far off distant lands

In numbers almost far to great
To seat them in the hall
The nobles and the common folk
Were seated wall to wall

Then Dances from the Heimat
Were danced for all to view
Then everyone joined in the dance
A contest, two by two

First to a waltz they turned the floor
And danced their partners round
And then a polka filled the air
And both were fine, I'm bound

The victors took their dancing spoils
And blended in once more
Then all commenced to dancing
As the throng filled up the floor

And then another troupe stood in
To dance their place of birth
They danced a native dance or two
And filled the hall with Mirth

Then through games of chance they won
The queen's own gifts so rare
The lucky numbers read out loud
Like barkers at the fair

The orchestra played every tune
The people love to hear
And like those evenings read before
Twas plenty wine and beer

The nighttime blended into mourn
The early hours of day
Yet still they did not slow their pace
Of dance and drink and play

Yet every reveler knew at heart
The winter was still cold
Each one new this winter's grasp
For it was not yet old

So soon to home and bed they went
Warm memories did they bring
For it would still be two long months
Till the King's High Ball and spring