Dame Snow has been knitting all day

With needles of crystal and pearl

To make a big, beautiful stocking

For Santa, her merriest son;

And now in some wonderful way

She has hung it, by twist and by twirl,

On the tip of the moon, and sits rocking,

Old mother, her day’s work done.


How long and how empty it flaps,

Like a new, white cloud in the sky!

The stars gleam above it for candles;

But who is to fill it and trim?

Dame Snow in her rocking-chair naps.

When Santa comes home by and by,

Will he find-0 scandal of scandals! —

No Christmas at all for him?..


His pack is bursting with toys;

The dollies cling round his neck;

And sleds come slithering after

As he takes the roofs at a run.

Blithe lover of girls and boys,

Bonbons he pours by the peck;

Holidays, revels and laughter,

Feasting and frolic and fun.


Who would dream that his kind heart aches

—Heart shaped like a candied pear,

Sweet heart of our housetop rover—

For the homes where no carols resound,

For the little child that wakes

To a hearth all cold and bare,

For Santa, his white world over,

Finds Christmas doesn’t go round! . . .


Let us bring the dear Saint from our store

Fair gifts wrapped softly in love;

Let all gentle children come flocking,

Glad children whose Christmas is sure;

Let us bring him more treasures and more,

While the star-candles glisten above,

For whatever we put in his stocking,

Santa Claus gives to the poor.



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