Strange that the termagant winds should scold The Christmas Eve so bitterly! But Wife, and Harry, the four-year old, Big Charley, Nimblewits, and I,
Blithe as the wind was bitter, drew More frontward of the mighty fire, Where wise Newfoundland Fan foreknew The heaven that Christian dogs desire--
Stretched o'er the rug, serene and grave, Huge nose on heavy paws reclined, With never a drowning boy to save, And warmth of body and peace of mind.
And as our happy circle sat, The fire well capp'd the company: In grave debate or careless chat, A right good fellow, mingled he:
He seemed as one of us to sit, And talked of things above, below, With flames more winsome than our wit, And coals that burned like love aglow.
While thus our rippling discourse rolled Smooth down the channel of the night, We spoke of Time: thereat, one told A parable of the seasons' flight.
Those seasons out, we talked of these: And I, with inward purpose sly, To shield my purse from Christmas-trees, And stockings, and wild robbery
When Hal and Nimblewits invade My cash in Santa Claus's name,-- In full the hard, hard times surveyed, Denounced all waste as crime and shame;
Hinted that "waste" might be a term Including skates, velocipedes, Kites, marbles, soldiers, towers infirm, Bows, arrows, cannon, Indian reeds,
Cap-pistols, drums, mechanic toys, And all th' infernal host of horns Whereby to strenuous hells of noise Are turned the blessed Christmas morns;
Thus, roused--those horns! to sacred rage, I rose, forefinger high in air, When Harry cried, some war to wage, "Papa is hard times ev'ywhere?
"Maybe in Santa Claus's land It isn't hard times none at all!" Now, blessed vision! to my hand Most pat, a marvel strange did fall.
Scarce had my Harry ceased, when "Look!" He cried, leapt up in wild alarm, Ran to my Comrade, shelter took Beneath the startled mother's arm,
And so was still: what time we saw A foot hang down the fireplace! Then, With painful scrambling, scratched and raw, Two hands that seemed like hands of men,
Eased down two legs and a body through The blazing fire, and forth there came Before our wide and wondering view A figure shrinking half with shame,
And half with weakness. "Sir," I said, --But with a mien of dignity The seedy stranger raised his head: "My friends, I'm Santa Claus," said he.