AT CHRISTMASTIDE.

New Zealand Graphic, 20 December 1894, Page 23

AT CHRISTMASTIDE.

O, FOR a gift to bring to my beloved-— To the dear child who died At solemn Christmastide A little year ago ! O, for a -ong to sing to my beloved Who lies so low, With dreamy, deep blue eyes, And hands crossed, angel-wise. Under the winter snow ! Thou torn heart! are the numbers born of pain Fit for a baby’s ear— Fit for a child to hear, Whose little life scarce knew, So brief its day, sorrow or loss or gain ? Who, like the dew That gems the early dawn, Smiled softly, and was gone From mortal view. Oh, I have naught to bring to my beloved ! His brothers press my knees And kiss and coax and tease For many a childish prize, I have no song to sing to my beloved— My baby lies Under the winter snow, Where the winds blow and blow. Far from my lullabies. But this, this may I do for thee, my child : Thy share of gifts I’ll bring, Ay, and a song I’ll sing Of gentle Christmas cheer To one whose joys are few—that he, beguiled Of pain and fear, May laugh at Christmastide O’er pleasures long denied, And thou in Heaven mayst hear.