Treasures

Treasures.
176.9

I count my trensures o’er with care,
The little toy that beby knew,
A little sock with faded hue,
A little lock of golden hair.
Long years ago this Christmas time:
My little one, my all to me,
Sat robed in white upon my knee.
And heard the merry Christmas chime.
“Tell me, my little golden hend,
If Santa Claus should come tonight.
What shall he bring my baby bright.
What treasure for my hoy?” I sald.
And then he named the little toy.
While in his honest, mournful oyes,
There came a look of sweet surprise
That spoke his qule, trustfu: joy.
And as he lisped his evening praye”
He asked the hoon with childish grace.
Then, toddling to the chimney place,
He hung his little stocking there.
That night, as lengthening shadows crept,
I saw the white-winged angels come
With heavenly musle to our home,
And kiss my darling as he slept.
They must have heard his baby prayer,
For in the morn with smiling face
He toddled to the chimney place
And found the little treasure there.
They came agata one Christinastide,
That angel host so fal and white,
And, singing all the Christmas night,
They lured my darling from my side.
A little sock, a little toy..
A little lock of golden hair,
The Christmas music on the air,
A-watching for my baby boy,
But if again that angel train
And golden hond come back to me,
To bear me to eternity.
My watching will not be in vain.
Eugene Field