  Would you see a winsome fairy with her baby eyes alight, As she wrestles with the problem: “Oh, will Santy come to-night?” Mischief beaming in the glances where the dainty dimples hide, ’Mid a wealth of wiles bewitching at the merry Christmas tide. Twice her eager ears have heard, Sounds as if the yule log stirred; Thrice the reindeer bells have rung Since the twilight hour was young. From her rosy lips and fingers honey-sweet caresses fall, Like a tender benediction on the loving hearts of all; And with each exultant jingle from the busy street below Hark the joyful proclamation:—“He is coming now, I know.” Singing blithely as a wren:— “Peace on earth, good will to men.” Wafted on the strain so sweet, Surely earth and heaven meet. How she warms and glows and sparkles, like a precious human gem, Till she kneels beside the chimney at the setting of P.M. With her gentle face uplifted and the drooping lashes wet, Whispering the fond petition which she never can forget:— That the morrow may be glad, And that Kris herself will bless With just one benign caress. Hurry, darling, let us go to the magic realm of sleep, It is over there, you know, we may hear a love-bird peep; Hang the stocking up in state where Saint Nicholas must see, Then away to fair dreamland on the fast express with me. Happy Little Wide-Awake, Santy comes and no mistake; But she misses half the bliss Of his pleasant smile and kiss. |
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