Yet for all the gems that strew Thee,
And the kingly gowns that fold Thee,
Yea, though all the world should woo Thee,
Thou art mine-and fast I hold Thee,
Baby dear.

A CHILD'S PRAYER

(EX ORE INFANTIUM)

H. H. Bashford

Little Jesus, wast Thou shy
Once, and just so small as I?
And what did it feel like to be
Out of Heaven, and just like me?
Didst Thou sometimes think of there,
And ask where all the angels were?
I should think that I would cry
For my house all made of sky;
I would look about the air,
And wonder where my angels were;
And at waking 'twould distress me-
Not an angel there to dress me!

Hadst Thou ever any toys,
Like us little girls and boys?

And didst Thou play in Heaven with all
The angels, that were not too tall,
With stars for marbles? Did the things
Play Can you see me? through their wings?

Didst Thou kneel at night to pray,
And didst Thou join Thy hands, this way?
And did they tire sometimes, being young,
And make the prayer seem very long?
And dost Thou like it best, that we
Should join our hands and pray to Thee?
I used to think, before I knew,

The prayer not said unless we do.

And did Thy Mother at the night
Kiss Thee and fold the clothes in right?
And didst Thou feel quite good in bed,
Kissed, and sweet, and Thy prayers said?

Thou canst not have forgotten all
That it feels like to be small:

And Thou know'st I cannot pray
To Thee in my father's way-
When Thou wast so little, say,
Could'st Thou talk Thy Father's way?-
So, a little child, come down

And hear a child's tongue like Thy own;
Take me by the hand and walk,
And listen to my baby-talk.
To Thy Father show my prayer
(He will look, Thou art so fair),
And say: "O Father, I, Thy son,
Bring the prayer of a little one."

And He will smile, that children's tongue
Has not changed since Thou wast young!

Francis Thompson

CHRISTMAS BELLS

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,

Of

And wild and sweet

The words repeat

peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along

The unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound

The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep!

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,

Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!

Mighty glad I ain't a girl-ruther be a boy,

Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy!

Love to chawnk green apples an' go swimmin' in the lakeHate to take the castor-ile they give for belly-ache! 'Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain't no flies on me,

But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat;
First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is at;
Got a clipper sled, an' when us kids goes out to slide,
'Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all hook a ride!
But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' cross,
He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups up his hoss,
An' then I laff an' holler, "Oh, ye never teched me!"
But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be!

८

Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man,
I'll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan,
As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon's Isle,
Where every prospeck pleases, an' only man is vile!

But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West show, Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she'd know

That Buff'lo Bill and cow-boys is good enough for me!
Excep' jest 'fore Christmas, when I'm good as I kin be!

And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemn-like an' still, His eyes they keep a-sayin': "What's the matter, little Bill?"

The old cat sneaks down off her perch an' wonders what's become

Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things. hum!

But I am so perlite an' 'tend so earnestly to biz,

That mother says to father: "How improved our Willie is!"
But father, havin' been a boy hisself, suspicions me
When, jest 'fore Christmas, I'm as good as I kin be!

For Christmas, with its lots an' lots of candies, cakes, an'

toys,

Was made, they say, for proper kids an' not for naughty

boys;

So wash yer face an' bresh yer hair, an' mind yer p's an' q's, An' don't bust out yer pantaloons, an' don't wear out yer shoes;

Say "Yessum" to the ladies, an' "Yessur" to the men, An' when they's company, don't pass yer plate for pie

again;

But, thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that tree, Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be!

Eugene Field

THE CHRISTMAS TREE IN THE NURSERY

With wild surprise

Four great eyes

In two small heads

From neighboring beds

Looked out-and winked-
And glittered and blinked
At a very queer sight
In the dim dawn-light.
As plain as can be
A fairy tree

Flashes and glimmers

And shakes and shimmers.

Red, green, and blue

Meet their view;

Silver and gold

Sharp eyes behold;

Small moons, big stars;

And jams in jars,

And cakes, and honey,

And thimbles, and money,