  When roads are mired with ice and snow, And the air of morn is crisp with rime; When the holly hangs by the mistletoe, And bells ring in the Christmas time:— It's—Saddle, my Heart, and ride away, To the sweet-faced girl with the eyes of gray! Who waits with a smile for the gifts you bring— A man's strong love and a wedding-ring— It's—Saddle, my Heart, and ride! When vanes veer North and storm-winds blow, And the sun of noon is a blur o'erhead; When the holly hangs by the mistletoe, And the Christmas service is sung and said:— It's—Come, O my Heart, and wait awhile, Where the organ peals, in the altar aisle, For the gifts that the church now gives to you— A woman's hand and a heart that's true. It's—Come, O my Heart, and wait! When rooms gleam warm with the fire's glow, And the sleet raps sharp on the window-pane; When the holly hangs by the mistletoe, And Christmas revels begin again:— It's—Home, O my Heart, and love, at last! A song to sing and a tale to tell, A good-night kiss, and all is well. It's—Home, O my Heart, and love! |
|
