Only Walter de la Mare (1873–1956) would write a creepy poem about being kissed under the mistletoe — but not by a creep. At least, not by that kind of creep. “Mistletoe,” with its floating, disembodied, “unseen lips,” may win the prize for “Least Physical Kissing Poem Ever Published,”  or possibly “Most Paranormal Poem About Christmas.”  
 
Either way, it is a beguiling poem. New York Sun readers, already familiar with de la Mare’s “Dream Song” and “The Empty House,” will recognize the elements that make his poems as spellbinding as they are: the repetitive, even claustrophobic rhymes, and the short lines that bring those rhymes around in rapid sequence. In both septets of this tetrameter poem, “mistletoe” repeats and rhymes with itself, as if the word alone were an incantation.

And then there’s that uncanny sense of a disembodied presence, which recurs as a motif in de la Mare’s poems. In “The Empty House,” absence itself becomes a presence. Here, it is as if the strange “someone” of another of de la Mare’s poems (who “came knocking at my wee, small door”: someone who knocks but is never there) has been invited to the world’s dreamiest, drowsiest Christmas party. There, this someone goes wafting about, voiceless and bodiless, in search of a forgotten person, half-asleep in the light of the last candle, on whom to bestow the world’s most spectral kiss.  

Mistletoe 
by Walter de la Mare 
 
Sitting under the mistletoe 
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), 
One last candle burning low, 
All the sleepy dancers gone, 
Just one candle burning on, 
Shadows lurking everywhere: 
Some one came, and kissed me there. 

Tired I was; my head would go 
Nodding under the mistletoe 
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), 
No footsteps came, no voice, but only, 
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, 
Stooped in the still and shadowy air 
Lips unseen — and kissed me there. 

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With “Poem of the Day,” The New York Sun offers a daily portion of verse selected by Joseph Bottum with the help of the North Carolina poet Sally Thomas, the Sun’s associate poetry editor. Tied to the day, or the season, or just individual taste, the poems will be typically drawn from the lesser-known portion of the history of English verse. In the coming months we will be reaching out to contemporary poets for examples of current, primarily formalist work, to show that poetry can still serve as a delight to the ear, an instruction to the mind, and a tonic for the soul.