STOCKING SONG ON CHRISTMAS EVE.
WELCOME, Christmas! heel and toe,
Here we wait thee in a row.
Come, good Santa Claus, we beg,
Fill us tightly, foot and leg.
Fill us quickly ere you go,-
Fill us till we overflow.
That's the way! and leave us more
Heaped in piles upon the floor.
Little feet that ran all day
Twitch in dreams of merry play;
Little feet that jumped at will
Lie all pink, and warm, and still.
See us, how we lightly swing;
Hear us, how we try to sing.
Welcome, Christmas! heel and toe,
Come and fill us ere you go.
Here we hang till some one nimbly
Jumps with treasure down the chimney.
Bless us! how he'll tickle us!
Funny old St. Nicholas !
It's coming, boys,
It's almost here;
It's coming, girls,
The grand New Year!
A year to be glad in,
Not to be bad in;
A year to live in,
To gain and give in;
A year for trying,
And not for sighing;
A year for striving
And hearty thriving;
A bright new year.
Oh! hold it dear;
For God who sendeth
He only lendeth.
A SONG OF SAINT NICHOLAS.
COME, ho! sing, ho! ye chimney sprites,
Come and a riddle unravel:
Tell us true, by the dancing lights,
Where does Saint Nicholas travel?
In the twinkling of an eye,
Hither, thither, doth he hie, —
North and south and east and west;
Not a moment doth he rest.
Speeding here and speeding there,
In an instant everywhere.
Valleys, hills, and mountain passes,
Sunny fields and drear morasses,
Silent plains and busy towns,
Yankee meadows, English downs, -
Whether crowded, lone or wild,
So it holds one little child,-
Every spot, he knows by heart;
What if half the world apart?
In the twinkling of an eye
Hither, thither, doth he hie.
Prythee, this riddle unravel:
How does Saint Nicholas travel?
How does he travel? This is the way:
Sun or storm or blue or gray,
Soon as he gathers his stock of toys,
Laughing and nodding, but never a noise,
Laughing and nodding, shaking his sides,
This is the way Saint Nicholas rides:
Not over mountains, not over streams,
But gliding swift through the children's dreams.
Soon as their eyelids in slumber close,
Hither and thither Saint Nicholas goes.
But how do the little ones go to him?
Sing, ho! When the winter waxeth dim,
And, Christmas over, the children say,
"Good Saint Nick! he has gone away,"
Oho! he strokes his jolly old nose,
And lays him down for a quiet doze.
"Ha, ha! the snow is a capital bed!"
And he pulls his nightcap over his head.
Asleep and resting, O good Saint Nick!
Now do the children play him a trick;
For, bright and rosy and lithe of limb,
They travel quick in his dreams, to him.
From every nook and possible place
There peeps a beautiful baby-face.
With joyous murmur and laughing hum,
From every quarter the children come.
Rosy, tender, and snow-flake soft,
They throng about him or float aloft;
Closer they nestle, a hundred thick,
And whisper, "We thank you, dear Saint Nick;
We've come to tell you we love you, dear."
And Nicholas laughs in his sleep to hear.
Oho! sing, ho! and now you know:
As soon as the Christmas lights are dim, And the saint no more his rounds doth go, The children flock, in his dreams, to him.
My little one came, and brought me a flower,
Never a sweeter one grew;
But it faded and faded in one short hour,
And lost all its pretty blue.
My little one stayed in the room and played;
And so my flower bloomed bright,-
My beautiful blossom that did not fade,
But slept in my arms all night.
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