Christmas Song.

Christmas Song.
495.4

All joys, I thought, from Christmas fled
When good Saint Nicholas drove away
Forever in his reindeer sleigh,
When last, from my low trundle-bed,
I watched the gray east growing red,
With heart of feverish eagerness,
And in the dim light strove to guess
If it were wagon, boat or sled
The good saint gave my life to bless.

Rich with the fancy of a child,
So little things were such a prize;
A splendid treasure, in my eyes,
Seemed all those toys and sweetmeats piled;
And then, if Fortune frowned or smiled,
Quick came the laughter or the tears-
But this was in the yester-years
When joy was easily beguiled,
Nor life had been of cares or fears.

I know now that they think amiss
Who hold that childish days are best,
That childhood is the better blest,
And quaffs a purer cup of bliss,
For love has come to teach me this:
That we can never set the sum
Of sweetness in a sugar-plum
Against the rapture of a kiss-
I know this now, for love has come.