 | [What Santa Claus was like, in] Michigan Poets and Poetry |  |
I.
“Now what is he like, do you believe?”
Said Margerie, Jean, and Joe,
Three tots that sat, on Christmas eve,
In the fireside's frolicsome glow:
“Is he tall, or short? Is he stout, or slim?
Pictures so many we've seen of him—
All different, too, you know:
Lie we awake to-night—us three—
And watch till he comes—and then we'll see,
And tell it, to all our friends' delight,
At the Christmas party to-morrow night.”
Said Margerie, Jean, and Joe,
Three tots that sat, on Christmas eve,
In the fireside's frolicsome glow:
“Is he tall, or short? Is he stout, or slim?
Pictures so many we've seen of him—
All different, too, you know:
Lie we awake to-night—us three—
And watch till he comes—and then we'll see,
And tell it, to all our friends' delight,
At the Christmas party to-morrow night.”
64
The wind was high, and the gales flew by,
With their dappled wings of snow:
They tapped in vain at the window-pane—
They onward still must go.
“He will have a fine old stormy night,”
Said the sturdy little Joe:
“He will be a sight, in his coat of white,”
Said Marge, with her eyes aglow.
“We must have him a cup of coffee here,
And give him a bite, and a word of cheer,”
Said Jean, with her eyes bent low.
With their dappled wings of snow:
They tapped in vain at the window-pane—
They onward still must go.
“He will have a fine old stormy night,”
Said the sturdy little Joe:
“He will be a sight, in his coat of white,”
Said Marge, with her eyes aglow.
“We must have him a cup of coffee here,
And give him a bite, and a word of cheer,”
Said Jean, with her eyes bent low.
And the mother smiled, as their talk she heard,
And measured and treasured every word,
As she did of the other child, that lay
Far out in the field, in its cot of clay,
'Neath many a frozen tear of love—
The chill winds rocking the branches above.
She covered and cuddled, with heart astir,
The three sweet ones that were left to her,
And shut them into their cozy beds,
And kissed the raven and golden heads,
And kissed them again for her husband's sake,
And said, “Yes, dears, you may lie awake,
(If you can) and watch, to see, and tell
Of the Santa Claus that you love so well.”
And measured and treasured every word,
As she did of the other child, that lay
Far out in the field, in its cot of clay,
'Neath many a frozen tear of love—
The chill winds rocking the branches above.
She covered and cuddled, with heart astir,
The three sweet ones that were left to her,
And shut them into their cozy beds,
And kissed the raven and golden heads,
And kissed them again for her husband's sake,
And said, “Yes, dears, you may lie awake,
(If you can) and watch, to see, and tell
Of the Santa Claus that you love so well.”
| [What Santa Claus was like, in] Michigan Poets and Poetry | |