Chapter I: Wonder! 52

EVERYBODY’S BABY 54

WHICH IS THE ROYAL BABY? 56

FLOWER SONG 58

SWEET SLEEP 59

THE MAKING OF THE FLAG 60

THE ANSWER OF THE FLAG 63

PROTECT THE FLAG 66

A COLLAR OF HONOR 67

THE CHILDREN’S SHIP 69

SOLDIER OR SLACKER 71

LEARNING TO KNIT 72

THE TIMID OYSTER 74

DINNER-TIME 76

THE WANDERING EELS 78

EASTER BLOSSOMS 81

THE LIFE-PRESERVERS 82

TALKING THROUGH THE HAT 84

THE DAY OF THE DOG 88

MEADOW TALK 91

KNOCKING ON WOOD 94

THE ROBIN AND THE ANGLEWORM 96

THE JOLLY DUGONG 98

THE DANDIFIED MANATEE 101

YOUNG SUNDAY HAT 103

THE LOLLIPOP BUSH 106

DIFFERENCE IN TASTES 108

THE WORD OF A GENTLEMAN 109

NO MAN’S LAND 112

KAMATU SAN AND ’LIZABETH ANN 114

THE LITTLE ’PRENTICE LAD 116

THE SUNFLOWER’S STORY 120

A BANANA STORY 122

SONG OF THE CARNAHUBA PALM 124

LITTLE DORRIT’S PLAYGROUND 127

THE THREAD-AND-NEEDLE TREE 129

PEDDLING POETRY 132

THE LITTLE ARTIST 135

THE FEAST OF THE DOLL 138

THE FEAST OF ARMS 139

THE FEAST OF LAUGHTER 141

THE DOLL’S CALENDAR 144

ILLUSTRATIONS

CHRISTMAS SECRETS _Frontispiece_

THE PRESENTS HE BOUGHT WERE A WONDERFUL SIGHT 8

“GO STAND THOU IN THE FROZEN MOON!” 24

THE GEESE ARE TROOPING TO WARSAW 48

HE IS GRAVELY SALUTED BY EACH BOLD MARINE 68

TALKING THROUGH THE HAT 84

“MY PITCHER! WILL YOU MEND IT, SIR?” 110

THE FEAST OF THE DOLL 138

The first two illustrations are redrawn from _John Martin’s Book, the Child’s Magazine_, the third from _Little Folks_, and the others from _St. Nicholas_, all with the kind permission of the editors.

THE CHRISTMAS CHILD

The Christmas child is a lovely child,
Though he be not fair of face,
For his heart is full of generous thoughts
And his eyes are full of grace.

The Christmas child is a helpful child,
Howsoever poor he live;
For his ears are lent to his brother’s need,
And his hands outstretched to give.

THE CHRISTMAS TRAVELERS[1]

(A CHRISTMAS PROCESSIONAL)

I

To seek the Babe of Bethlehem,
Three Kings of Orient came;
Wise Baltasar and Melchior,
With Gaspar, great in fame.
Across the lonely desert
They took their trackless way,
To find their King and worship Him
That wondrous Christmas Day.
A heav’nly guide their Lord did send,
A radiant jewel-star,
Serene and bright it journey’d on,
And sent its rays afar.
Around the shepherds as they lay,
It shed its glorious light;
The angels came in multitude,
And fill’d the sky of night.
“Good-will,” they sang, “to ev’ry man
And glory in the height.”

II

To seek the Babe of Bethlehem,
We come this Christmas Day,
A pilgrim band, our Promis’d Land,
The Manger where He lay.
No splendid robes enfold us,
No regal gifts we bring,
With simple faith we celebrate
The birthday of our King.
Oh, star divine, still shine on us,
Still let thy radiance burn,
Till into David’s city
Our lowly footsteps turn!
There, like the shepherds, wondering,
We’ll worship, kneeling still;
There, like the angel multitude,
Our song the heavens fill,
And tell the birth of peace on earth,
To men of gentle will.

FOOTNOTE

[1] Music from Mendelssohn, Opus 72, No. 1.

SANTA CLAUS IS COMING!

Up among the chimneys high,
Hark the merry sound!
The reindeer’s tramp, the ring of bells,
All the city round.
Santa Claus is coming with his pack of toys,
Santa Claus is coming to his girls and boys.
Santa Claus is coming; he’ll be welcome here,
For he only comes to see us once a year!

Clad in fur from head to foot,
Warm and soft he goes,
With silver hair and dimpled chin,
Cheek that’s like a rose.
Santa Claus is coming with his pack of toys,
Santa Claus is coming to his girls and boys.
Santa Claus is coming; he’ll be welcome here,
For he only comes to see us once a year!

Stop the sleigh, the reindeer halt!
We are waiting here,
And every stocking’s hanging up,
Come down, Santa dear!
Santa Claus is coming with his pack of toys,
Santa Claus is coming to his girls and boys.
Santa Claus is coming; he’ll be welcome here,
For he only comes to see us once a year!

NEIGHBORS OF THE CHRIST-NIGHT

_Remember, little dearest one,
The beasts on Christmas Day,
And give to each his bite and sup,
To each his meed of hay,
For so it was on the Christ-night._

Deep in the shelter of the cave,
The ass with drooping head
Stood weary in the shadow, where
His master’s hand had led.

About the manger oxen lay,
Bending a wide-eyed gaze
Upon the little new-born Babe,
Half worship, half amaze.

High in the roof the doves were set,
And cooed there, soft and mild,
Yet not so sweet as in the hay,
The Mother to her Child.

The gentle cows breathed fragrant breath
To keep Babe Jesus warm,
While loud and clear, o’er hill and dale,
The cocks crowed, “Christ is born!”

Out in the fields, beneath the stars,
The young lambs sleeping lay,
And dreamed that in the manger slept
Another, white as they.

These were Thy neighbors, Christmas Child
To Thee their love was given,
For in Thy baby face there shone
The wonder-light of Heaven.

THE BENEVOLENT GNOME

An elderly gnome of benevolent turn
And master of treasures untold,
Once lived in a forest and guarded his mines
And stored up his jewels and gold.
Alone lived the gnome and no kindred had he,
No gnomelets to hand down his name;
No creature to cheer him, not even a cat,
No housemates to praise him or blame.
And Christmas was coming!
With none could he share,
No tree could he help to adorn,
No stocking replenish, no storeroom refill!
Was ever a gnome more forlorn?

But sudden one morning he happened to think,
Though kin in the wood he had none,
Yet neighbors in feathers and neighbors in fur
Were plenty as motes in the sun.
“The fox,” thought the gnome,
“What a joy it would be
To give him a plan of each farm,
A guide to each hen-roost adjoining his den
And thus to protect him from harm.
The owl,” he thought, “is an excellent bird
Though somewhat addicted to gloom.
I’ll buy him a grammar and teach him to say
No longer ‘To who!’ but ‘To whom!’

“The squirrel is restless. Some potion or balm
Would quiet his nerves for a space;
A bottle of tonic would pleasure the fish
And set their cold blood in a race.
A cheese for the wood-mice I’ll quickly procure;
A string of gay beads for the crow;
Some greens for the rabbit, some furs for the snake,
And skis for the buck and the doe.”
With bark for his notebook, a thorn for his pen,
His list was soon plainly writ down,
And, clinking his money in holiday mood,
Our hero set out for the town.
The presents he bought were a wonderful sight,
They hung from each tree in the wood;
No beast was forgotten, no matter how small,
No bird, were he evil or good.
The elderly gnome of benevolent turn
No longer was lonely or sad;
In sharing with others he’d found his content,
In gladdening, he was made glad.

THE CHRIST-CANDLE

A SONG FOR CHRISTMAS EVE

I

’Tis Holy Night in the hamlet olden,
Darkness lowers her curtain down;
With fingers of sleep the eyes are holden,
Naught is awake in the dreaming town.
Shineth one light in a cottage window,
Set for the Christ-child’s tender feet,
Lest that they stumble, lest that they falter,
Passing to-night thro’ the silent street.

Shine, sweet light, from thy humble dwelling,
Brightly beam on the toilsome way;
Long must he journey--the darling Christ-child--
Far and far has he still to stray.

II

The world is asleep and the world is weary,
Scarce it remembers the Holy Night;
Error and wretchedness, sinful, dreary,
Cover and darken the spirit-sight.
Stay not to come to us, blesséd Christ-child,
Tho’ we be slumbering, tho’ we forget,
Tho’ they be scanty, the lights that await thee,
Heavenly Messenger, stay not yet!

Here is my light in my true heart’s window,
Angel of Christmastide, come to me;
If thou wilt enter so lowly a chamber,
Here shall thy home and thy shelter be.

THE GOOD FIR-TREE

There were two little fir-trees that happened to grow
In the shade of the forest wide,
And one was a good tree and one was as bad
As you’d find in a day-long ride.
He never would listen, he never would mind
The words of the motherly tree;
And it needn’t surprise you to learn he was soon
As crooked as crooked could be.

The good little fir-tree delighted to hear
The counsels of wisdom that fell
From the myriad lips of the motherly tree,
And he pondered them all right well.
“Strike deep with your rootlets,” the mother advised;
“Hold firmly your head in the air;
There are wonderful things that may happen to come
To a fir-tree that’s perfect and fair.”

The bad little sapling was sulky and rude;
He said a fine tree never grew
In such a deep shade as that tangled-up wood;
He was bound to be crooked, he knew.
His needles they withered; he blighted at heart;
And his fate at the end it was dire;
For they pulled him up bodily, rootlet and crown.
And they used him to kindle the fire!

But oh, the good fir-tree, he never had hoped
And scarce could believe such a thing--
The children discovered his place in the wood
And round him they danced in a ring.
They carried him homeward, and--what do you think?--
’Twas the happiest lot that could be,--
And fairest of fortunes that ever befell--
Why, they made him a Christmas Tree!

A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS CAROL

What is the fairest Christmas gift
A little child can bring?
A heart, as pure and white as plume
That drops from angel’s wing.
Oh, glad hearts sing,
And joy bells ring,
In the bright December weather.

What is the sweetest Christmas song
A little child can sing?
A song of love, of heavenly love,
That flows for everything.
Oh, glad hearts sing,
And joy bells ring,
In the bright December weather.

What is the dearest Christmas tune
The belfry chimes can ring?
A birthday carol they can sound,
The birthday of the King.
Oh, glad hearts sing,
And joy bells ring,
In the bright December weather.

THE GOOD SHIP SANTA CLAUS

Let’s take a shiny airship and let’s name it Santa Claus,
And go a-whisking off across the blue,
And let’s do a lot of errands for the very best of saints,
Who hasn’t time for all he wants to do.
There are polar bears complaining up among the northern snows
That they haven’t any honey for their cubs;
And mother mermaids moaning on the bottom of the sea
’Cause they have to do their washing without tubs.
There are mud-larks by the dozen who, I’m credibly informed,
Have never had a chance to lark in mud,
And sea cows ruminating where the water grasses grow,
Who have never had a new taste for their cud.
There are monkeys in menageries who tell me that it’s years
Since they had a single cocoanut to throw,
And that as for tails prehensile, they have nothing to prehense,
So the object’s a deception and a show.
There are jackdaws kept in cages with no single thing to steal,
And you know a daw would rather steal than eat;
There are kangaroos with pouches just as empty as a gourd
Who’d be pleased to fill them up with something sweet;
And centipedes who should, by rights, have long ago been shod,
Who’ve never even seen a boot or shoe,
And owls who keep protesting that they wouldn’t be so dull
If they only had a lesson-book or two.
And we shan’t forget the parrots, who with beaks designed to hook,
Never had an hour’s fishing in their days,
Nor the bats, who, if they’d spectacles that really fitted well,
Would travel in more reputable ways.
What ho! What ho! the Santa Claus! Swoop down from out the sky!
We’re ready with our bundles. Heave ahoy!
Stand fast and pack her solid to the very outer rim,
And tuck in every chink a Christmas toy.
As we skim across the water we will drop the presents in
For those who dare not venture on the land.
And when we reach the forest, we will hang them on the trees
And mark them so the least can understand.
What ho! What ho! the Santa Claus! The time is growing short--
Pull all the anchors up and let her go!
No beast must be forgotten from the East unto the West,
Nor from land of southern sun to land of snow.

GRACE FOR CHRISTMAS EVE[2]

The Baby born in Bethlehem
A sorry shelter had,
While we, who gather here to-night
Are warm and softly clad.

The Baby born in Bethlehem
Was fed on humble fare,
And yet our board is richly spread
With dainty food and rare.

Our beds are downy-smooth and white,
He slumbered in the hay;
’Tis good that we remember this,
Each blesséd Christmas Day.

And good that we remember, too,
To pay our thanks and praise
To Heavenly Love that brought us here
And gave this Day of Days.

FOOTNOTE

[2] From dramatic version of _The Birds’ Christmas Carol_, by Kate Douglas Wiggin.

CHRISTMAS HELPERS

I went to the forest and asked of the trees,
As bowing and swaying, they bent to the breeze,
“Now, tell me, my brothers, now, tell, if you please,
Just what can you do for Christmas?”
And straightway they answered, the dark, lofty trees
As spicy and fragrant, they waved in the breeze,
“We’re trying our best to grow tall, if you please,
We’re trying to grow for Christmas!”

I passed by the draper’s and saw in a box,
Such masses of stockings, both plain and with clocks;
And eager I asked them, “My sweet little socks,
Now what will you do for Christmas?”
And straightway they answered from out of their box,
Those stout-footed stockings, both plain and with clocks,--
“We’ll try to fulfill the first duty of socks,--
We’ll try to keep whole for Christmas!”

I entered the toy shop and said to the toys--
Such wonderful treasures for girls and for boys!
“You dear, pretty playthings, you holiday joys,
Pray, what will you do for Christmas?”
And straightway they answered, those shining new toys,
Those marvelous presents for girls and for boys,
“To play with a child is the chief of our joys;
We’ll visit them all on Christmas.”

To cloudland I wandered and asked of the snow,
As dancing and whirling, it sped to and fro,
“Now, tell me, fair snowflakes,--I long so to know,
Just what are your plans for Christmas!”
And straightway they answered, the soft flakes of snow,
As circling and floating, they flew to and fro,
“We think we should do the best thing, do you know,
If we fell thick and white for Christmas.”

I climbed to the belfry and questioned the bell,
All murm’ring with sound, like the heart of a shell,
“Now, tell me, my silver-tongue, truthfully tell,
What song will you sing on Christmas?”
And straightway the resonant voice of the bell
All vibrant with sound like a tropical shell,
Replied, “The glad message I’ll joyfully tell,
I’ll ring the Good News on Christmas!”

I asked of the tapers, the stars and each light
That blooms in the heavenly garden of night:--
“Now, tell me, ye shining ones, lovely and bright,
What best can you do for Christmas?”
And straightway they answered, star, taper and light,
All blooming and fair in the garden of night;--
“O’er land and o’er ocean, we’ll beam clear and bright,
We’ll shine out our best for Christmas!”

A CHRISTMAS ACROSTIC

C arollers singing at morning gray;
H olly and ivy in brave array;
R inging of bells in the tow’r aloft,
I ncense below and a chanting soft,--
S o should it be on Christmas!
T elling the tale of the Wonderful Child,
M ary, his worshiping Mother mild,
A ngels adoring in Heav’n above
S inging their praises of infinite love,

_So should it be on Christmas,
Ever should be on Christmas!_

THE MAN IN THE MOON

(_A German Folk-Tale_)

In Germany, the story goes,
Once lived a thieving peasant,
Who pilfered from his neighbor’s stores
What to his taste was pleasant.
All in a garden, near at hand,
Some cabbages were growing,
And forth he slipped, one Christmas Eve,
No shame, no reverence, knowing,
To fill his basket in the dark,
When none abroad were going.

He still was pulling, might and main,
His greediness unbounded,
When on the hard and frosty road
A horse’s tramp resounded.
White shone the steed, the rider white,
His face showed many a wrinkle;
Low bent the thief, for silver-bright
The stars began to twinkle.
“’Tis good Saint Nicholas!” he cried,
“I hear his hand-bell tinkle!”

The stately Bishop drew his rein--
He spied the peasant hiding;
“’Tis Holy Christmas Eve,” called he,
“Thy guilt’s the more abiding!
Go stand thou in the frozen moon,
And come thou downward never!
So long as earth lasts, nothing shall
Thee and thy booty sever!”

* * * * *

Still in the moon the culprit dwells,
’Mid cabbages forever!

TO A CHILD ON CHRISTMAS

(ACROSTIC)

C hildren should on Christmas be
H and in hand around a tree.
R inging voices should resound
I n a carol’s joyful round,
S inging of the Baby born
T o the world on Christmas morn.
M usic such as this can say
A ll glad things in gladdest way;
S ongs of love on Christmas Day!

CHRISTMAS SECRETS

I just love secrets; it’s such fun
To hint and whisper, hide and run,
And Christmas time of all the year
Is just when there’s the greatest fear
That folks will find out what you’re doin’
And bring your plans to rack and ruin.

My Christmas shoppin’--it’s all done
And presents bought for every one.
Nobody knows exceptin’ me
What all the things are goin’ to be.
They’re always askin’, but I say:
“You’d better wait till Christmas Day!”

I’ve bought my father somethin’ white
And thin and smooth; you fold it tight
And in your pocket is its house;
It snuggles there just like a mouse.
I told my father all of this,
But he says _he_ can’t guess what ’tis!

My mother’s present is to wear,
There’s two of it, it’s called a pair;
It’s smooth and shiny, black and white,
It goes by day and goes by night.
My mother guessed a bird, with wings--
When ever did you hear such things!

I bought my sister somethin’ red,
You tie it tight around your head;
It’s silky-smooth as any rose.
What can it be, do you suppose?
My sister guessed a bathin’ hat--
As if I’d give a thing like that!

They’re not good guessers, though they’re dear;
They’ll never know my plans, that’s clear.
When Christmas comes, what glad surprise
And thanks will shine from all their eyes.
There’s not a clam down by the sea
Can hold his tongue so well as Me!

HOW THE CHRIST-FLOWER BLOOMED

(_From a German Legend_)

Dark was the sky that Christmas Eve,
The heavy clouds hung low;
The charcoal burner scarce could trace
His pathway through the snow.

Black Forest trees stood thick and tall,
Black Forest drifts were deep;
Yet light of heart he hastened home
The Christmas feast to keep.

A cheese of goat’s milk, coarse black bread--
The morrow’s scanty meal,
From prying frost and envious sleet
He struggled to conceal.

He stumbled on, when through the blast
A piteous cry was heard,
And close beside him, heaped in snows,
A wailing infant stirred.

“Now, who has laid thee here, sweet babe,
To perish in the storm?
’Tis Christmas Eve; I’ll take thee home,
My cloak shall wrap thee warm.”

The tiny creature, as he spoke,
He gathered to his breast,
And there beyond, his cottage shone,
In Christmas firelight dressed.

Within the good-wife’s tender arms
The shivering waif was set,
And children’s faces bent above,
And eyes with pity wet.

Warm and content, the stranger babe
Gazed wondering o’er the room,
And spied at last the children’s tree,
A Christmas rose in bloom.

Eager they ran to show the lights,
And round their treasure pressed;
When lo! a glimmering cloud of mist
Enwrapped the wondrous guest.

On silver-shining wings he rose,
His fair head bore a crown,
And vanishing, with baby hands
He wafted blessings down.

Next morning, where amid the snows
The Babe had made his bed,
Fair as a star, and dazzling white,
The Christ-Flower raised its head.

They bore it home, and every year
In depths of winter wild,
Chrysanthemums bloom in that cot,
Where came the Holy Child.

A DEAR LITTLE BOY

A gay soldier-jacket,
A suitcase to pack it,
A box full of candy,
A fine Jack-a-dandy,
Kind Christmas is bringing to me.
A red-crested Polly,
A garland of holly,
A nut and a raisin,
A fine trumpet brazen,--
Oh, what a rich boy I shall be!

Some nails and a hammer
To make a fine clamor,
A pony to ride on,
Some stilts I can stride on,
Kind Christmas is bringing to me.
A yellow canary
My pets for to vary,
A jar full of cookies,
Some nice picture-bookies,--
Oh, what a rich boy I shall be!

Some sleigh-bells to jingle,
Like those of Kriss Kringle,
Two little black kittens,
A pair of red mittens,
Kind Christmas is bringing to me.
A purse full of money,
A snowy-white bunny,--
A horse fit for rocking,
Some sweets for my stocking,--
Oh, what a rich boy I shall be!

My trundle-bed scorning,
When comes the glad morning,
My gifts I’ll find early,
With fine hurly-burly,
What Christmas is bringing to me.
“Get up!” I’ll be saying,
“I want to go playing!
My breakfast be hasting,
There’s no time for wasting!”
Oh, what a rich boy I shall be!

“And grandmother’s ‘fairing’?”
She’s too old for caring!
“And wee sister Jennie?”
She’s too small for any.
Kind Christmas is coming to ME!
“My father and mother?”
Oh, they will not bother,
If I am not sighing,
Nor fretting nor crying,
Oh, what a rich boy I shall be!

“L’OISEAU DE DIEU”[3]

(_A Legend of Normandy_)

When sweet Babe Jesus sleeping lay
And shivered with the cold;
The wee brown wren took thought to Him,
Her down she plucked and brought to Him,
Enwrapped Him, fold on fold.

When sweet Babe Jesus craved a robe,
A-couching in the hay,
Her own warm plumes she laid on Him,
A feathered garb she made on Him,
That blessed Christmas Day.

Babe Jesus lacked a coverlet;
The rude wind stole within;
The wren brought leaves and spread on Him,
Russet and gold she shed on Him,
And lapped Him softly in.

Dear bird of brown, thou tender heart,
Thou gav’st the Babe thine all!
To praise thee is most meet to us,
Thy pitying deeds are sweet to us,
God’s blessing on thee fall!

FOOTNOTE

[3] God’s Bird.

CHRISTMAS IN NORWAY

A flock of crows a caucus held
Upon a certain day,
And talked of many a sober theme,
In sober, serious way.

They touched on corn, on growing crops,
They praised the plough and hoe;
And bolder ones of scarecrows spoke
With bated breath and low.

At length, a crow advanced in years,
His speech a feeble caw,
Arose to tell of things that he
In foreign countries saw.

“One Christmas Day I chanced to be
In Norway,” quoth the bird;
“And ’twas the coldest winter wind
That e’er my feathers stirred.

“My mate was ill and could not fly,
And, anxious at her plight,
I pondered where to seek her food
Through all the bitter night.

“The morning broke on icy trees,
And fields adrift with snow,
And faint with hunger, numb with cold
I scarce knew where to go.

“Beyond the wood a farmhouse stood,
And there at length I flew,
Hoping to find a seed or crumb
To feed my mate so true.

“Wary, I flapped above the roof,
When, what my eyes should greet,
But, fixed to gable, door and gate,
Great sheaves of golden wheat!

“Behind the shining window-panes,
Stood children all a-row,
And happy voices eager cried,
‘Bright Christmas! Master Crow!’

“Oh, blessings on those kindly folk
At Christmas evermore,
And blest be all that feed the birds
In Norway’s rocky shore!”

He ceased. A chorus loud arose
From birds both far and near;
“Ah! would the children in this land
Provide such Christmas cheer!”

THE HAUGHTY ASPEN

(_A German Legend_)

_As I went through the tangled wood
I heard the Aspen shiver.
“What dost thou ail, sweet Aspen, say,
Why do thy leaflets quiver?”_

“’Twas long ago,” the Aspen sighed--
How long is past my knowing--
“When Mary Mother rode adown
This wood where I was growing.
Blest Joseph journey’d by her side,
Upon his good staff resting,
And in her arms the Heav’nly Babe,
Dove of the World, was nesting.
Fair was the mother, shining-fair,
A lily sweetly blowing;
The Babe was but a lily-bud,
Like to his mother showing.
The birds began, ‘Thy Master comes!
Bow down, bow down before Him!’
The date, the fig, the hazel tree,
In rev’rence bent to adore Him.
I only, out of all the host
Of bird and tree and flower,--
I, haughty, would not bow my head,
Nor own my Master’s power.
‘Proud Aspen,’ quoth the Mother-Maid,
‘Thy Lord, dost thou defy Him?
When emperors worship at His shrine,
Wilt courtesy deny Him?’
I heard her voice; my heart was rent,
My boughs began to shiver,
And age on age, in punishment,
My sorrowing leaflets quiver.”

_Still in the dark and tangled wood,
Still doth the Aspen quiver.
The haughty tree doth bear a curse,
Her leaflets aye must shiver._

REMEMBER!

What’s the very best rhyme for December?
Why, of course you must know ’tis REMEMBER!
Remember the snowflakes,
The green Christmas tree,
The red holly berries
Each season we see.
Remember! December! Remember!

What word do bells ring in December?
Why, of course you can hear ’tis REMEMBER!
Remember the carols,
The tinkle of sleighs,
The chickadee singing
In gloomiest days.
Remember! December! Remember!

What story is told in December?
To read it once is to remember,
Remember the manger,
The Baby that lay,
His sweet mother watching,
All cradled in hay.
Remember! December! Remember!

What song do we sing in December,
When the birth of the Babe we remember?
The song of the angels,
We echo it still;
O’er all the earth singing
Of peace and good will.
Remember! December! Remember!

A NEW YEAR’S SONG

On New Year’s Eve in England,
All in the olden day,
The children went a-caroling,
All in the olden way;
And ever as they journey’d on,
This chorus would you hear:--
“God send you happy, God send you happy,
Pray God send you a happy New Year!”

Across the fields and meadows
And through the frosty light,
While starry eyes and starry skies
Illumed the wintry night,
The children caroled blithely on,
In chorus sweet and clear:--
“God send you happy, God send you happy,
Pray God send you a happy New Year!”

Our days are sadly modern,
Our ways are modern, too;
But hearts still beat as high with love
As once they used to do--
So take the old-time message,
Good friends, both far and near:
“God send you happy, God send you happy,
Pray God send you a happy New Year!”

THE BOASTFUL SNOWFLAKE

A snowflake remarked to his mother one day,
His calm sweet mother of cloud so gray,
“When _I_ fall to earth, there’s none but will know,
For I’ll fall with a whiz, and a whir, and a go!
I’ll pile up a drift by myself, all alone,
As high as a steeple and hard as a stone.
I’ll roll up a snowball as round as the moon,
And big as the sun when he shines out at noon.
I’ll make a great snow-man, so tall and so grand
He can hold a whole boy in the palm of his hand.
Here I go! See me fly! One and all, look at me!
I’m a Snowflake from Cloudland--at last I am free!”
He drifted to earth like a feather afloat,
A gallant young sailor, a breeze for a boat,
When a wonderful flower appeared to his view,
All dewy with fragrance, all brilliant of hue.
He longed to caress it, give one kiss so light,
He yearned just to touch it, and paused in his flight--
Alas, for the snowflake--ambition grew weak,
He died for the rose on a soft baby cheek!

THE GOOSE FAIR AT WARSAW

Hiss! Hiss! Quack! Quack!
The geese are trooping to Warsaw!
In Warsaw there’s a giant Fair,
And through the chill December air,
O’er hills and uplands brown and bare,
Waddling here and waddling there,
The geese go forth to Warsaw.

Hiss! Hiss! Quack! Quack!
The geese are trooping to Warsaw!
For every winter, I’ve been told,
A Goose Fair in that town they hold,
And be they young or be they old,
Sweet maiden geese, or ganders bold,
They all must fare to Warsaw.

Hiss! Hiss! Quack! Quack!
The geese are trooping to Warsaw!
A million geese, or so they say,
In noisy flocks are on the way.
There’ll be the very deuce to pay
If such an army goes astray,
Of geese that tramp to Warsaw.

Hiss! Hiss! Quack! Quack!
The geese are trooping to Warsaw!
The goose-herds drive them, all a-row,
And very well indeed they know
That geese can never barefoot go,
O’er frozen ground and eke on snow,
The many miles to Warsaw.

Hiss! Hiss! Quack! Quack!
The geese are trooping to Warsaw!
But ere they leave their master’s land,
They walk through tar and then through sand,
And so on well-shod feet they stand,
As, in a feathered army grand,
The geese march on to Warsaw.

_Hiss! Hiss! Quack! Quack!
With arching neck and curving back,
The booted geese go cackling down
To meet their fate in Warsaw town.
Hiss! Hiss!_

THE FAIRY RING[4]

Throned on a grassy knoll, I watch
The elfin host come trooping by,
And hear the whir of fairy wings,
The goblin voices, shrill and high.
Behind them glides a magic train
Of Kings and Princes, armor-clad,
And serving as their squires bold
Boots, Ashiepattle, Cinderlad.
With silken rustle, flash of gem,
Queen and Czaritsa sweep along,
While red-capped Troll and rainbow Sprite
Peep out amid the enchanted throng.

Ting-ling, ting-ling, how sweet the ring,
Like golden bells, of fairy laughter;
Rap-tap, rap-tap, how sharp the clap
Of fairy footfalls following after!

Where witch-grass grows and fern-seed lies,
A fairy ring is dimly seen;
And there a glitt’ring host is met
To dance upon the moonlit green.
Riquet, the Tufted, lightly turns
The Fair One with the Golden Hair;
And Prince Desire and Mignonette
Form yet another graceful pair.
Tall as a tower stands Galifron;
The Desert Fay, with snakes bedight,
First pirouettes with him and then
With wee Tom Thumb, King Arthur’s Knight.

Ting-ling, ting-ling, how sweet the ring,
Like golden bells, of fairy laughter;
Rap-tap, rap-tap, how sharp the clap
Of fairy footfalls following after!

Sweet, unseen harpers harp and sing,
Faint elfin horns the air repeat;
Rapunzel shakes her shining braids,
The White Cat trips with velvet feet.
Rose-red, Snow-white, the faithful Bear,
Cross hands with gallant Percinet;
While Tattercoats, in turn, salutes
Yvon, the Fearless, and Finette.--But
hark! the cock begins to crow;
The darkness turns to day, and where
The fairy dancers trod the green,
Now is the space but empty air.

FOOTNOTE

[4] From _The Fairy Ring_. By permission of Messrs. Doubleday, Page & Co.