Monday, December 21, 2009
A Christmas Poem (1)
When snow on the frozen meadow is lying,
When trees are bare, the sky overcast...
When the wind in the chimney is crying, crying,
It is then I remember the past.
Then too, we were getting ready for Christmas,
Hearing the Story, tying a bow.
Our stockings were hung on the mantelpiece -
Three stockings in a row.
I longed to be tall. My arms could not reach
Above the first bough of the glittering tree;
Longed to be grown as those who seemed
Ten feet above me.
The wish has come true.
I am hanging the garlands
That link the chain of our lives.
The bells are ringing - the old year is dying;
The yule log is burning, the stockings are hung,
(Three stockings in a row)
And the wind in the chimney is crying.
by May Harris Gray