CHRISTMAS VERSE.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume LI, Issue 16918, 24 December 1925, Page 7

CHRISTMAS VERSE.

A CHRISTMAS MELODY. A haunting melody, so low, Sweet, floating music makes, And, as tho memories cpme and go, My soul to rapture wakes. I see the old Judean lulls, And sweet blue Galilee, And hear again the songs that fill 'My heart with melody. I feel the rush of unseen wings, Hear voices chanting low, While in my ears a sweet strain rings, As dim forms come and go, I see the stall in Bethlehem • Where Wise Men bowed the knee, While angels sing, as they did then, Their haunting melody. ’Twas while tho stars were shining bright The heavenly vision came. With gladsome voice ’mid flashing light, They sang the old refrain. Behold! Good tidings now wo bring, A Saviour’s come to fhee. Peace on the Earth, their voices ring With sweetest melody. The earth is filled with care, and life Has joys and sorrows too. For those bowed down with pain and strife The message rings out true While all the tumult and tho din Is hushed awhile —and we Forget all care while listening in To heavenly melody. Peace on the Earth, Good will to Men, Rings through, out hearts again, As when the watching shepherds lent Their ears to that sweet strain. A happy Christmas to us all; Angels our guests shall be, Forever singing in our hearts The old sweet melody. And when life’s little span is o’er And crossed the Great Divide, When time and place shall be no moro Upon the other side, Ferchance when angel forms we meet. The songs they sing will be The same sweet haunting strains which now Make Christmas melody. L. Minnis. A VOICE FOR SANTA CLAUS. Read it last week in tho paper, ha’f of a page it had; Read it out loud to mother; my, but it made her mad! Somethin’ some college feller said in a mile-long speech, That'Santy Claus is a humbug that nobody ought to teach: That tellin ’ the children stories of how he comes through tho snow To bring ’em their toys and dollies was wicked and bad and low; That him and his prancin ’ roindeer, his pack and liis old red sleigh, Was nothin’ but lyin’ nonsense that ought to be thrown away. Nothin’ but lyin’ nonsense, teachin’ a child deceit? Nothin’ but fairy stories? Maybe, but ain’t they sweet? What would you give, you fellows—-gray-headed grandads all, Workin’ 'from morn till evenin’ over this hard old ball — What would you give in money, cash that you worked for so, To b’licvc in the fairy stories, you b’lieved in long ago? What would you sell your past for? How much would close the deal? That bought up your mem’ries treasures. of days when them tales was real. Christmas without a Santy? ’Member the nights before? ; ’Member how hard you listened hoarin’ tho old folks snore, Hearin’s the wind a-whistlin’ up in the chimney flue, There in the place where Santy somehow would wriggle through? ’Member the Christmas morninMi ’Member the stockin’s, What? i Wasn’t they filled with glories? Nothin’ that cost a lot; But, ’cause old Santy brought ’em, wonderful things, you bet! ’Member just how you loved him? Some of us lovo him yet. Christmas without a Santy? Puddin’ without the plums, Think of the million youngsters waitin ’ tli.c day he comes, Countin’ the hours and minutes, thinkin ’ they hear his sleigh, .Test as their daddies heard it, back in another day. Nothin’ but lyin’ nonsense, wicked to spread around? Then I’m a wicked liar, long’s I’m above the ground. Long as I’ve got a Toof-treo, while there’s a chimney flue, Santy shall come to my house. How is it folks, with you? Joseph C. Lincoln. A SENTIMENT. ’Neath sapphire skies our golden land, With summer bloom ablaze, Sun-drenched and green on every hand, A-shimmer in tho haze. By dazzling beach’s silver gleam, The emerald breakers play, Rounding off the jewelled themo With glist’ning diamond spray. O’er blazing plain, thro’ cool ravine, Down winding mountain track, Tho Message ■ goes, through pastures green) To lonely bushland shack. To cattle camp and shearing shed, It whispers on the wind, And murmurs in the river-bed, “Goodwill to all mankind.” —Cyril Samuels. THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING. Take some human nature —ns you And it. The ordinary variety will do. Put a little graciousness behind it; Add a lump of toleration, too. Squoezc in just a drop of moderation, Half as much frugality—or less. Add some very fine consideration,Strain off all of poverty's distress. Pour some milk of human kindness in it; Shake in all the happiness you can. Stir it up with laughter every minute. Season with goodwill towards every man. Set it on the fire of heart’s affection, Leave it till the jolly bubbles rise. Sprinkle it with kisses for confection. Sweeten with a look from loving eyes. * Flavor it with children’s merry chatter. Decorate with blooms from shady dells. Place, it on a holly-garnished platter; And serve with music from tho Christmas bolls. G.o‘o.

THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT,

It Christmas warms your heart to-day ’Tis not becauso the feast is high; Nor yet because the jest holds sway, With rest, and case, and comfort nigh. But as in days when came the Star That shed its light o’er Bethlehem, The message rings from near and far “Good will shall reign in hearts of men.”

Fill high the wassail bowl; who cries Hosannas to the living Breath, That through the ages still defies The onslaughts of that sceptic Death, Who yet shall yield us truths unborn, When 10, the centuries proclaim With growing faith to souls unborn The God-iu-Naturc’s wonder name?

May Christmas find you full of store, With kindly hearts and quiet soul. A benison on rich and poor, And Peace join hands from Pole to Pole! Serene and calm where’er you roam, May all your Yule-tide harvest be: Love to the friends wc have at home; Love to'the friends beyond the sea! ‘ A. M. Y. THE PATH TO TOYTOWN. ' \ “Over the liill where tho white moon shines, And a soft breeze kisses the swaying pines, There’s a silver path that wends its way, Down where the Elfin people play, Past tiny houses all yellow and green And the shining home of tho Fairy Queen.

“Through, pearly fields its bright path leads, Bv golden lakes with shimmering reeds, O’er sugar mountains, gleaming white, And will-o'-the-wisps’ bright magic light. And still you follow the luminous strand Till yon come at last, to a wonderful land, Visioned in dreams by girls and boys: The mythical, magical Land of Toys.” —Marjorie Collett, in Elizabeth in Tovland. THE LITTLE CHRIST CHILD. There was cheer at the inn, with windows alight, But no room to offer a child that night— v The little Christ-child, so tender and small; They made Him a couch in the cows’ rough stall. They covered Him there tho manger’s straw; Only the humble cattle saw. Warmth in the village, cheer at the , inn, And che straw in the manger scant and thin; But the angels sang on a hill nearby, And a gold star rose in tho winter sky: His mother pillowed Him on her arm, And the little sleeper was glad and warm. Hundreds and hundreds of years liavo g° n0 > , . . And still the angels are singing on; Still the light of that lovely star Over the world hills shines afar; Still into hearts whci;e love is bright The Christ-child enters on Christmas night! THE CHRISTMAS VACATION. HERE’S LOAFING.

(A vacation is a lazy thing—Thomas ,7 A. Edison.)

Vacation is a lazy thing— There's naught to do but row tho boat, And climb tho tree to fix tho swing, And scale the mountain like a goat, And clean the fish and fry the same, And forage food to feed the flame —

And dig a country o’er for bait (Tho while flic farmer sits and grins), And glide and dip and hesitate With schoolmarms at the country inns, And walk an hour to town for mail, And brace tho tent against the gale—

And spend a morn to mend’a tire, And toil and tug like any team To puli the auto from the mire Of some pellucid, purling stream; And carry tons of,picnic lunch For chipmunks and for ants to munch —

And bail the ship with can and hat, And take the engine all apart, And fight tho skeeter and the gnat, And piedicate ihe sunburn smart. Ah yes, with wizard Tom I sing Vacation is a lazy thing!

HOLIDAYING

The morning sun is shining, The harbor-ways are wide, Our boat is dancing, dancing, Where silken ripples glide; Since pleasant is the weather, In spilt 1 of tie and tether; Lot us fare forth together Upon the flowing tide.

Though Duty bids us labor, Yet Beauty bids us roam, e As yonder birds aro roaming (• Across tho pearly foam; And, since tho title is flowing, Ret us lie up and going On harbor-waters glowing As blue ns heaven’s dome.

With Duty ever keeping . Our eyes and cars in thrall, Too seldom do wo hearken To Beauty’s bugle-call: Sweet hours were made, to squander, A golden bench lies yonder — There let us boy-like wander Till twilight shadows fall.

Lot us, with trees for neighbors, Forgot tho world of men — Be rovers, campers, lishers, Till shadows fall, and then — No wasted hours regretting, The ripples round us frettipg— Brown jib and t mainsail sotting— Sail slowly home again. —Roderie Quinn. FATHER CHRISTMAS. Once more he comes in cloak of red And in the distance far away, While little ones are snug in bed, I hear the tinkle of liis sleigh, Some picture him as up-to-date In aeroplane or car a-glcam, But I can confidently state He still keeps up his reindeer team

Aerials and things like these Mav form entanglements on high; But ho can thread the maze with ease Beneath the wintry, starlit sky. A race against the grey-beard, Time, The stout old. fellow quite enjoys, And, justifies the faith sublime Of all good little girls and boys.

Though in the gifts he loves to bring He cannot show enterprise enough, I fancy-that lie loves to cling To certain dear, old-fashioned stuff, With pretty dolls and soldiers gay The stockings lie delights to fill, And smiles to think that e'en to-day The children can bo children still. —Touchstone. A CHRISTMAS SONG. Before 1 the birth of Mary’s Babe, Gold corn that grew in Judah gave The straw to make His bed. Rough, unskilled hands tho manger made, And Mary's little Child was laid Whore cattle lately fed. \ , i 1 • • _ • Beneath their feet was earthen floor, "With woven rushes for a door, A roof of palm leaves dead. See, ns He lies on Mary’s heart, The simple beasts all stand apart, - Bowing each lowly head.

Soon, humble shepherds, who had heard, God’s promise, and believed the Word, Were by His own star led. They knelt around the Babe divine, Good Joseph, shepherds, lowly kino, And glory round them spread.

His Mother’s gaze on Him was bent, As o’er the manger-bed sho leant; Then angel voices said: “Ho Who is Lord of All this, day Comes with His humbles ones to stay ’ ’ Thus peace on earth was shod. —Joan Destin.