Читать книгу The Nursery, January 1873, Vol. XIII. - Various - Страница 3

Stockings in the kitchen, hung up in a row;

Santa Claus has filled them,—yes, from top to toe;

Purple, gold, and crimson, paint the fallen snow,—

On Christmas Day, so early in the morning.

Earnest little whispers from the cosey bed;

Busy little footsteps pattering overhead;

Down the stairs they wander, to sweet music wed,—

On Christmas Day, so early in the morning.

Dolls and drums and trumpets, what a sight to see!

Whips and tops and tea-sets,—one for you and me;

Blooming in the corner, such a Christmas-tree,—

On Christmas Day, so early in the morning.

Bells up in the steeples; hark! they sweetly tell

How the blessed Saviour loves the children well;

And they sing the glories that long since befell

On Christmas Day, so early in the morning.

Wee, soft, fairy footsteps outside in the hall,

Then the words of baby musically fall,—

"Going to kiss my papa, first one of them all!"

On Christmas Day, so early in the morning.