Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
That Hans and his friends the secret would keep.
Next morning, when Christmas songs filled all the air,
Budd found, to his grief and boyish despair,
That his neck was so stiff that he could not turn his head,
And must spend the whole day alone in his bed.
What was worse, his own stocking hung limp on a chair,
And on it these words were written most fair:
"To him who is greedy I leave less than all;
The world is so large and my reindeer so small.
"My pack is elastic when children are kind,
But it shuts with a snap and leaves nothing behind,
When a boy or girl is selfish or mean.
Good-bye, little Budd, I am off with my team.
(Signed) Santa Claus."
Christmas
Again the Christmas holidays have come,
We soon will hear the trumpet and the drum;
We'll hear the merry shout of the girls and boys
Rejoicing o'er their gifts of books and toys.
Old Santa Claus comes by at dead of night,
And down the chimney creeps--a funny sight;
He fills the stockings full of books and toys,
But puts in whips for naughty girls and boys.
One Christmas-eve the moon shone clear and bright;
I thought I'd keep awake and watch all night,
But it was silent all around and stilled,
Yet in the morn I found my stockings filled.
Christmas Morning
They put me in a square bed, and there they bade me sleep;
I must not stir; I must not wake; I must not even peep;
Right opposite that lonely bed, my Christmas stocking hung;
While near it, waiting for the morn, my Sunday clothes were flung.
I counted softly, to myself, to ten and ten times ten,
And went through all the alphabet, and then began again;
I repeated that Fifth-Reader piece--a poem called "Repose,"
And tried a dozen various ways to fall into a dose--
When suddenly the room grew light. I heard a soft, strong bound,
'Twas Santa Claus, I felt quite sure, but dared not look around.
'Twas nice to know that he was there, and things were going rightly,
And so I took a little nap, and tried to smile politely.
"Ho! Merry Christmas!" cried a voice; I felt the bed a-rocking;
Twas daylight--brother Bob was up! and oh, that splendid stocking!
St. Nicholas
[Page 80--Santa Claus Land]
Little Nellie's Visit From Santa Claus
Santa Claus is coming to-night, papa;
Please let me sit up and see him, mamma;
Loaded with presents, I'm sure he'll be.
He'll have something nice for you and for me.
"Mamma, do find something fresh and quite new,
For dear old Santa Claus, when he comes through,
I'll give it myself; I'll keep wide awake;
I know he'll be glad my present to take.
"Now all go to bed as quick as you please,
I'll wait for him," said the bright little tease,
"He surely will ring, no doubt about that,
I'll bid him come in and then have a chat."
Soon came a quick step on the piazza floor,
Just then a loud ring was heard at the door.
The little miss rose with dignified air,
Quick ushered him in, and set him a chair.
All covered o'er with little bells tinkling,
Shaking and laughing, twisting and wriggling,
A funny old man, with little eyes blinking,
Looking at Nellie, what was he thinking?
Not a word did he say--tired of waiting,
Nellie arose, her little heart quaking,
Held out her present, courage most failing,
"Santa Claus, take this"--now she is smiling.
"His furry old hand, twisting and trembling,
Took the sweet gift--"You dear little darling,"
Uttered quite softly, tenderly kissing,
The bright little face, ne'er a bit shrinking.
Lots of presents quickly bestowing,
Thanking her kindly--he must be going,
Shaking and laughing, his little bells jingling,
Down the steps, hastening off in a twinkling.
Brave little lady! all are now saying,
Santa Claus truly! bright eyes are asking;
See her dear papa, secretly laughing
At her true faith in Santa Claus' coming.
Yes! she believes it, ever so truly,
Dear precious darling! rob her not surely,
Of childhood's sweet faith, now in its glory,
While she's relating her own simple story.
Mrs. C. E. Wilbur
Christmas Stockings
'Tis Christmas day,
And little May
Peeps from her bed in the morning grey.
She looks around,
But not a sound
Breaks on the quietness profound.
So, heaving sighs,
She shuts her eyes,
And hard to go to sleep she tries.
But sleep has fled
That little bed.
And weary moves the curly head,
Until the light
(Oh, welcome sight!)
Has banished every trace of night.
Then out of bed,
With hurried tread,
She runs to waken brother Fred;
For oh, what joys,
In the shape of toys,
Does Christmas bring to girls and boys!
Fred gives a groan,
Or a sleepy moan,
And mutters, "Do let me alone!"
But bonnie May
Will not have nay;
She whispers, "It is Christmas day!"
Oh, magic sound!
For Fred turns round,
And in a trice is on the ground.
"Our stockings, where?"
"They're on that chair."
"Oh, what has Santa Claus put there?"
May laughs with glee,
The sight to see,
Of stockings filled from toe to knee
With parcels queer,
That stick out here,
Before, behind, in front and rear.
"Oh, Fred! a dolly!
I'll call her Molly."
"Why, may, a penknife here; how jolly!"
"A necktie blue!
A paintbox too!"
"Oh, Fred, a pair of kid gloves new!"
"May, here's a gun!
Won't we have fun,
Playing at soldiers!--You'll be one."
"Now that is all.
No; here's a ball;
Just hold it, or these things will fall."
"What's in the toe,
May, do you know?
Biscuits and figs!--I told you so."
"I think," said May,
That Christmas day
Should come at least every second day."
And so say we;
But then you see
That Santa Claus would tired be.
And all his toys
And Christmas joys
Would vanish then from girls and boys.
From "The Prize"
Hang Up Baby's Stocking
Hang up the baby's stocking:
Be sure you don't forget:
The dear little dimpled darling
Has never seen Christmas yet.
But I told him all about it,
And he opened his big blue eyes;
I'm sure he understood it,
He looked so funny and wise.
Ah, what a tiny stocking;
It doesn't take so much to hold
Such little toes as baby's
Safe from the frost and cold.
But then, for the baby's Christmas
It never will do at all;
For Santa Claus wouldn't be looking
For anything half so small.
I know what will do for baby;
I've thought of a first-rate plan;
I'll borrow a stocking of grandma--
The longest that I ever can.
And you shall hang it by mine, mother,
Right here in the corner--so;
And write a letter for baby.
And fasten it on the toe.
"Old Santa Claus, this is a stocking
Hung up for our baby dear;
You never have seen our darling,
He has not been with us a year,
"But he is a beautiful baby;
And now, before you go,
Please cram this stocking with presents,
From the top of it down to the toe.
"Put in a baby's rattle,
Also a coral ring,
A bright new ribbon for his waist;
Some beads hung on a string
"And mind a coloured ball please,
And a tiny pair of shoes;
You'll see from this little stocking,
The size you have to choose."
Santa Claus
A health to good old Santa Claus,
And to his reindeer bold,
Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down,
Whose horns are tipped with gold.
Ho comes from utmost fairyland
Across the wintry snows;
He makes the fir-tree and the spruce
To blossom like the rose.
Over the quaint old gables,
Over the windy ridge,
By turret wall and chimney tall,
He guided his fairy sledge;
He steals upon the slumbers
Of little rose-lipped girls,
And lays his waxen dollies down
Beside their golden curls.
He scatters blessings on his way,
And sugar-coated plums;
He robs the sluggard from his rest
With trumpets, guns, and drums.
Small feet, before the dawn of day,
Are marching to and fro,
Drums beat to arms through all the house,
And penny trumpets blow.
A health to brave old Santa Claus,
And to his reindeer bold,
Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down,
Whose horns are tipped with gold.
S. H. Whitman
[Page 81--Play Land]
The Rabbit on the Wall
The children shout with laughter,
The uproar louder grows;
Even grandma chuckles faintly,
And Johnny chirps and crows.
There ne'er was gilded painting,
Hung up in lordly hall,
Gave half the simple pleasure
As this rabbit on the wall.
The cottage work is over,
The evening meal is done;
Hark! thro' the starlight stillness
You hear the river run.
The little children whisper,
Then speak out one and all;
"Come, father, make for Johnny,
The rabbit on the wall."
He--smilingly assenting,
They gather round his chair;
"Now, grandma, you hold Johnny;
Don't let the candle flare."
So speaking, from his fingers
He throws a shadow tall,
That seems, a moment after,
A rabbit on the wall.
Holiday Time
With these three little girls and two little boys
There is sure to be plenty of laughter and noise;
But nobody minds it, because don't you see,
At school they are quiet with lessons to say--
But when the holidays come they can play the whole day.
The Fairy Queen
Let us laugh and let us sing,
Dancing in a merry ring;
We'll be fairies on the green,
Sporting round the Fairy Queen.
Like the seasons of the year,
Round we circle in a sphere;
I'll be Summer, you'll be Spring,
Dancing in a fairy ring.
Harry will be Winter wild;
Little Annie, Autumn mild;
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring,
Dancing in a fairy ring.
Spring and Summer glide away,
Autumn comes with tresses grey;
Winter, hand in hand with Spring,
Dancing in a fairy ring.
Faster! faster! round we go
While our cheeks like roses glow;
Free as birds upon the wing,
Dancing in a fairy ring.
Come and Play in the Garden
Little sister, come away,
And let us in the garden play,
For it is a pleasant day.
On the grassplot let us sit,
Or, if you please, we'll play a bit,
And run about all over it.
But the fruit we will not pick,
For that would be a naughty trick,
And, very likely, make us sick.
Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers
That grow about the beds and bowers,
Because, you know, they are not ours.
We'll pluck the daisies, white and red,
Because mamma has often said,
That we may gather them instead.
And much I hope we always may
Out very dear mamma obey,
And mind whatever she may say.
Little Romp
I am tired to death of keeping still
And being good all day.
I guess my mamma's company
Forgot to go away,
I've wished and wished they'd think of it,
And that they would get through;
But they must talk for ever first,
They almost always do.
I heard Tom calling to me once,
He's launched his boat, I know;
I wanted to get out and help,
But mamma's eyes said no.
The ladies talk such stuff to me,
It makes me sick to hear--
"How beautiful your hair curls!" or,