Page:Poems Curwen.djvu/181

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And all too soon come the years that leave
The bitter-sweets of our Christmas Eve.
But the young who have their dreams to dream,
Who have yet to build and plan and scheme,
Who have ail to win, and naught to grieve,
There's no such a time as Christmas Eve.
In the children's realm there's joy because
That wonderful being, old Santa Claus,
In his reindeer sleigh is on his tour,
Visiting the homes of the rich and the poor;
And rows of stockings, of every size,
Are hung where they will meet his eyes:
For Santa comes laden with beautiful toys
For all the good little girls and beys.
O, the careful hanging of these, lest he
Should fail one little stocking to see.
What anxious fears in each tiny breast;
What longings for this or that confessed
To mother or nurse, when prayers are said,
And stockings are duly hung by the bed.
What joy of anticipation is their's
As dream-fairies bear them unawares
To Slumberland, while the reindeer sleigh
Deposits its gifts and drives away.
In the world of sorrow sad hearts will grieve
O'er absent friends this Christmas Eve;
Husbands and wives who mourn their dead;
Mothers who weep by some empty bed,
Where Santa Claus was wont to lay
His offerings on many a by-gone day;