Myra Cohn Livingston was born in Omaha, Nebraska. Her family moved to California when she was 12 years old. She studied the French horn from age 12 to age 20, becoming so good that the Los Angeles Philharmonic invited her to join them when she was 16 years old. She had other plans. She knew she wanted to write.
This collection included some wonderful poems and some that were just plan odd. Most of them were nothing remarkable and most were not worth reading again in my opinion. The great ones I think are available elsewhere.
This is a mixed bag of really lovely, and fairly terrible Christmas poems. The gems are enough to keep me pulling it out every Christmas and reading it to the kids.
I am not much into Christmas decorating or baking, but I DO love the music and poetry of the season, and I especially enjoy vintage offerings such as this one. This book is catalogued as "juvenile," and when you read "Give greatly of your grunts, O pig!" you might be tempted to cast it aside as twaddle. UNLESS you happen to also be reading C.K. Chesterton, in which case the lowly pig is elevated to new heights:
"Has the poet, for whom Nature means only roses and lilies, ever heard a pig grunting? It is a noise that does a man good—a strong, snorting, imprisoned noise, breaking its way out of unfathomable dungeons through every possible outlet and organ. It might be the voice of the earth itself, snoring in its mighty sleep. This is the deepest, the oldest, the most wholesome and religious sense of the value of Nature—" C.K. Chesterton A DEFENCE OF SKELETONS (1901)
I discovered a nice mix of poetry between the pages of this book, some frivolous, some funny, some well-known, some classic. The index of authors includes Chesterton, e e. cummings, De la Mare, T S. Eliot, Robert Frost, Thomas Hardy, Ogden Nash, George MacDonald and many more. I will be dipping into this volume again when Christmas rolls around.
So, I got this at a library sale and I believe I paid 10 cents to it- and I feel I overpaid. Don't get me wrong, there were some gems on here, but most of it was crap. It provided some serious giggles (especially anything by Norma Farber- who in the world thinks to write about Christmas from a ladybug's perspective). But overall, this was bizarre. I feel like the editor found anything with the word 'Christmas,' and threw it in this book. Seriously, there were parts that only had a sentence or two from something and it made no sense.
Is it terrible that I kinda liked it though too?? I will probably pick this up again, around Christmas, and flip through it. There was a cheesiness that I appreciated enough to come back to it.