 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
415
SANTA CLAUS
A voice from out of the northern sky:
“On the wings of the limitless winds I fly,
Swifter than thought over mountain and vale,
City and moorland, desert and dale!
From the north to the south, from the east to the west,
I hasten regardless of slumber or rest;
Oh, nothing you dream of can fly as fast
As I on the wings of the wintry blast!
“On the wings of the limitless winds I fly,
Swifter than thought over mountain and vale,
City and moorland, desert and dale!
From the north to the south, from the east to the west,
I hasten regardless of slumber or rest;
Oh, nothing you dream of can fly as fast
As I on the wings of the wintry blast!
“The wondering stars look out to see
Who he that flieth so fast may be,
And their bright eyes follow my earthward track
By the gleam of the jewels I bear in my pack.
For I have treasures for high and for low:
Rubies that burn like the sunset glow;
Diamond rays for the crownèd queen;
For the princess, pearls with their silver sheen.
Who he that flieth so fast may be,
And their bright eyes follow my earthward track
By the gleam of the jewels I bear in my pack.
For I have treasures for high and for low:
Rubies that burn like the sunset glow;
Diamond rays for the crownèd queen;
For the princess, pearls with their silver sheen.
“I enter the castle with noiseless feet—
The air is silent and soft and sweet;
And I lavish my beautiful tokens there—
Fairings to make the fair more fair!
I enter the cottage of want and woe—
The candle is out, and the fire burns low;
But the sleepers smile in a happy dream
As I scatter my gifts by the moon's pale beam.
The air is silent and soft and sweet;
And I lavish my beautiful tokens there—
Fairings to make the fair more fair!
I enter the cottage of want and woe—
The candle is out, and the fire burns low;
But the sleepers smile in a happy dream
As I scatter my gifts by the moon's pale beam.
416
“There's never a home so low, no doubt,
But I in my flight can find it out;
Nor a hut so hidden but I can see
The shadow cast by the lone roof-tree!
There's never a home so proud and high
That I am constrained to pass it by,
Nor a heart so happy it may not be
Happier still when blessed by me!
But I in my flight can find it out;
Nor a hut so hidden but I can see
The shadow cast by the lone roof-tree!
There's never a home so proud and high
That I am constrained to pass it by,
Nor a heart so happy it may not be
Happier still when blessed by me!
“What is my name? Ah, who can tell,
Though in every land 'tis a magic spell!
Men call me that, and they call me this;
Yet the different names are the same, I wis!
Gift-bearer to all the world am I,
Joy-giver, Light-bringer, where'er I fly;
But the name I bear in the courts above,
My truest and holiest name, is—LOVE!”
Though in every land 'tis a magic spell!
Men call me that, and they call me this;
Yet the different names are the same, I wis!
Gift-bearer to all the world am I,
Joy-giver, Light-bringer, where'er I fly;
But the name I bear in the courts above,
My truest and holiest name, is—LOVE!”
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |