Francis Thompson could have written any number of good poems on the Cross, because it is a primary symbol.  The number of poems which Mr. Rudyard Kipling could write on the Union Jack is, fortunately, limited, because the Union Jack is too complex to produce luxuriance.  The same principle applies to any possible number of cases.  A poet like Francis Thompson could deduce perpetually rich and branching meanings out of two plain facts like bread and wine; with bread and wine he can expand everything to everywhere.  But with a French menu he cannot expand anything; except perhaps himself.  Complicated ideas do not produce any more ideas.  Mongrels do not breed.  Religious ritual attracts because there is some sense in it.  Religious imagery, so far from being subtle, is the only simple thing left for poets.  So far from being merely superhuman, it is the only human thing left for human beings.

CHRISTMAS

There is no more dangerous or disgusting habit than that of celebrating Christmas before it comes, as I am doing in this article.  It is the very essence of a festival that it breaks upon one brilliantly and abruptly, that at one moment the great day is not and the next moment the great day is.  Up to a certain specific instant you are feeling ordinary and sad; for it is only Wednesday.  At the next moment your heart leaps up and your soul and body dance together like lovers; for in one burst and blaze it has become Thursday.  I am assuming (of course) that you are a worshipper of Thor, and that you celebrate his day once a week, possibly with human sacrifice.  If, on the other hand, you are a modern Christian Englishman, you hail (of course) with the same explosion of gaiety the appearance of the English Sunday.  But I say that whatever the day is that is to you festive or symbolic, it is essential that there should be a quite clear black line between it and the time going before.  And all the old wholesome customs in connection with Christmas were to the effect that one should not touch or see or know or speak of something before the actual coming of Christmas Day.  Thus, for instance, children were never given their presents until the actual coming of the appointed hour.  The presents were kept tied up in brown-paper parcels, out of which an arm of a doll or the leg of a donkey sometimes accidentally stuck.  I wish this principle were adopted in respect of modern Christmas ceremonies and publications.  Especially it ought to be observed in connection with what are called the Christmas numbers of magazines.  The editors of the magazines bring out their Christmas numbers so long before the time that the reader is more likely to be still lamenting for the turkey of last year than to have seriously settled down to a solid anticipation of the turkey which is to come.  Christmas numbers of magazines ought to be tied up in brown paper and kept for Christmas Day.  On consideration, I should favour the editors being tied up in brown paper.  Whether the leg or arm of an editor should ever be allowed to protrude I leave to individual choice.