December by K. Pyle
On Christmas day, when fires were lit,
And all our breakfasts done,
We spread our toys out on the floor
And played there in the sun.
The nursery smelled of Christmas tree,
And under where it stood
The shepherds watched their flocks of sheep,
– All made of painted wood.
Outside the house the air was cold
And quiet all about,
Till far across the snowy roofs
The Christmas bells rang out.
But soon the sleigh-bells jingled by
Upon the street below,
And people on the way to church,
Went crunching through the snow.
We did not quarrel once all day;
Mamma and Grandma said
They liked to be in where we were,
So pleasantly we played.
I do not see how any child
Is cross on Christmas day,
When all the lovely toys are new,
And everyone can play.
The wonderful old fashioned Christmas poem is from the December 1890 issue of St. Nicholas magazine.
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