Part 1
THE CHRISTMAS CHILD AND OTHER VERSE FOR CHILDREN
THE CHRISTMAS CHILD
AND OTHER
VERSE FOR CHILDREN
BY
NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH
AUTHOR OF “THE HOME-MADE KINDERGARTEN,” “THREE LITTLE MARYS,” “UNDER THE CACTUS FLAG,” ETC.
_With Illustrations_
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge 1920
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
TO MY MOTHER
(_A Christmas Wish_)
This is the day of the Mother and Child, Of Blessed Babe and of Mary mild; Centuries old yet eternally young, Chanted in praises of every tongue,-- Lily divine of Motherhood, Child who has taught us Brotherhood!
This is the season of Mother and Child,-- Then let me wish for thee, mother mild, Who of thy love didst bring me here, Gave me this life that I hold so dear, All that thy heart can treasure, Joy beyond earthly measure!
“_And I, for one, would much rather, Could I merit so sweet a thing, Be the poet of little children Than the laureate of a king._” LUCY LARCOM
Acknowledgments are made to the following periodicals in which these little verses for children first appeared: _The Ladies’ Home Journal_, _The Outlook_, _The Interior_, _Little Folks_, _The Kindergarten and First Grade_, _The Housewife_, _The Churchman_, _American Primary Teacher_, _The Continent_, _John Martin’s Book_, _Mother’s Magazine_, _Woman’s Home Companion_, _Sunday School Times_, _Youth’s Companion_, _Woman’s World_, _Table Talk_, _Journal of Education_, _St. Nicholas_, _Young People’s Weekly_, _The Primary School_, _The Ladies’ World_.
Also to Doubleday, Page and Company and Houghton Mifflin Company for permission to use verses which have appeared in their publications.
CONTENTS
TO MY MOTHER (A CHRISTMAS WISH) v
THE CHRISTMAS CHILD 1
THE CHRISTMAS TRAVELERS 2
SANTA CLAUS IS COMING! 4
NEIGHBORS OF THE CHRIST-NIGHT 6
THE BENEVOLENT GNOME 8
THE CHRIST-CANDLE 11
THE GOOD FIR-TREE 13
A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS CAROL 15
THE GOOD SHIP SANTA CLAUS 16
GRACE FOR CHRISTMAS EVE 19
CHRISTMAS HELPERS 20
A CHRISTMAS ACROSTIC 23
THE MAN IN THE MOON 24
TO A CHILD ON CHRISTMAS 26
CHRISTMAS SECRETS 27
HOW THE CHRIST-FLOWER BLOOMED 29
A DEAR LITTLE BOY 32
“L’OISEAU DE DIEU” 35
CHRISTMAS IN NORWAY 37
THE HAUGHTY ASPEN 40
REMEMBER! 42
A NEW YEAR’S SONG 44
THE BOASTFUL SNOWFLAKE 46
THE GOOSE FAIR AT WARSAW 47
THE FAIRY RING 49
I WONDER! 52
EVERYBODY’S BABY 54
WHICH IS THE ROYAL BABY? 56
FLOWER SONG 58
SWEET SLEEP 59
THE MAKING OF THE FLAG 60
THE ANSWER OF THE FLAG 63
PROTECT THE FLAG 66
A COLLAR OF HONOR 67
THE CHILDREN’S SHIP 69
SOLDIER OR SLACKER 71
LEARNING TO KNIT 72
THE TIMID OYSTER 74
DINNER-TIME 76
THE WANDERING EELS 78
EASTER BLOSSOMS 81
THE LIFE-PRESERVERS 82
TALKING THROUGH THE HAT 84
THE DAY OF THE DOG 88
MEADOW TALK 91
KNOCKING ON WOOD 94
THE ROBIN AND THE ANGLEWORM 96
THE JOLLY DUGONG 98
THE DANDIFIED MANATEE 101
YOUNG SUNDAY HAT 103
THE LOLLIPOP BUSH 106
DIFFERENCE IN TASTES 108
THE WORD OF A GENTLEMAN 109
NO MAN’S LAND 112
KAMATU SAN AND ’LIZABETH ANN 114
THE LITTLE ’PRENTICE LAD 116
THE SUNFLOWER’S STORY 120
A BANANA STORY 122
SONG OF THE CARNAHUBA PALM 124
LITTLE DORRIT’S PLAYGROUND 127
THE THREAD-AND-NEEDLE TREE 129
PEDDLING POETRY 132
THE LITTLE ARTIST 135
THE FEAST OF THE DOLL 138
THE FEAST OF ARMS 139
THE FEAST OF LAUGHTER 141
THE DOLL’S CALENDAR 144
ILLUSTRATIONS
CHRISTMAS SECRETS _Frontispiece_
THE PRESENTS HE BOUGHT WERE A WONDERFUL SIGHT 8
“GO STAND THOU IN THE FROZEN MOON!” 24
THE GEESE ARE TROOPING TO WARSAW 48
HE IS GRAVELY SALUTED BY EACH BOLD MARINE 68
TALKING THROUGH THE HAT 84
“MY PITCHER! WILL YOU MEND IT, SIR?” 110
THE FEAST OF THE DOLL 138
The first two illustrations are redrawn from _John Martin’s Book, the Child’s Magazine_, the third from _Little Folks_, and the others from _St. Nicholas_, all with the kind permission of the editors.
THE CHRISTMAS CHILD
The Christmas child is a lovely child, Though he be not fair of face, For his heart is full of generous thoughts And his eyes are full of grace.
The Christmas child is a helpful child, Howsoever poor he live; For his ears are lent to his brother’s need, And his hands outstretched to give.
THE CHRISTMAS TRAVELERS[1]
(A CHRISTMAS PROCESSIONAL)
I
To seek the Babe of Bethlehem, Three Kings of Orient came; Wise Baltasar and Melchior, With Gaspar, great in fame. Across the lonely desert They took their trackless way, To find their King and worship Him That wondrous Christmas Day. A heav’nly guide their Lord did send, A radiant jewel-star, Serene and bright it journey’d on, And sent its rays afar. Around the shepherds as they lay, It shed its glorious light; The angels came in multitude, And fill’d the sky of night. “Good-will,” they sang, “to ev’ry man And glory in the height.”
II
To seek the Babe of Bethlehem, We come this Christmas Day, A pilgrim band, our Promis’d Land, The Manger where He lay. No splendid robes enfold us, No regal gifts we bring, With simple faith we celebrate The birthday of our King. Oh, star divine, still shine on us, Still let thy radiance burn, Till into David’s city Our lowly footsteps turn! There, like the shepherds, wondering, We’ll worship, kneeling still; There, like the angel multitude, Our song the heavens fill, And tell the birth of peace on earth, To men of gentle will.
FOOTNOTE
[1] Music from Mendelssohn, Opus 72, No. 1.
SANTA CLAUS IS COMING!
Up among the chimneys high, Hark the merry sound! The reindeer’s tramp, the ring of bells, All the city round. Santa Claus is coming with his pack of toys, Santa Claus is coming to his girls and boys. Santa Claus is coming; he’ll be welcome here, For he only comes to see us once a year!
Clad in fur from head to foot, Warm and soft he goes, With silver hair and dimpled chin, Cheek that’s like a rose. Santa Claus is coming with his pack of toys, Santa Claus is coming to his girls and boys. Santa Claus is coming; he’ll be welcome here, For he only comes to see us once a year!
Stop the sleigh, the reindeer halt! We are waiting here, And every stocking’s hanging up, Come down, Santa dear! Santa Claus is coming with his pack of toys, Santa Claus is coming to his girls and boys. Santa Claus is coming; he’ll be welcome here, For he only comes to see us once a year!
NEIGHBORS OF THE CHRIST-NIGHT
_Remember, little dearest one, The beasts on Christmas Day, And give to each his bite and sup, To each his meed of hay, For so it was on the Christ-night._
Deep in the shelter of the cave, The ass with drooping head Stood weary in the shadow, where His master’s hand had led.
About the manger oxen lay, Bending a wide-eyed gaze Upon the little new-born Babe, Half worship, half amaze.
High in the roof the doves were set, And cooed there, soft and mild, Yet not so sweet as in the hay, The Mother to her Child.
The gentle cows breathed fragrant breath To keep Babe Jesus warm, While loud and clear, o’er hill and dale, The cocks crowed, “Christ is born!”
Out in the fields, beneath the stars, The young lambs sleeping lay, And dreamed that in the manger slept Another, white as they.
These were Thy neighbors, Christmas Child To Thee their love was given, For in Thy baby face there shone The wonder-light of Heaven.
THE BENEVOLENT GNOME
An elderly gnome of benevolent turn And master of treasures untold, Once lived in a forest and guarded his mines And stored up his jewels and gold. Alone lived the gnome and no kindred had he, No gnomelets to hand down his name; No creature to cheer him, not even a cat, No housemates to praise him or blame. And Christmas was coming! With none could he share, No tree could he help to adorn, No stocking replenish, no storeroom refill! Was ever a gnome more forlorn?
But sudden one morning he happened to think, Though kin in the wood he had none, Yet neighbors in feathers and neighbors in fur Were plenty as motes in the sun. “The fox,” thought the gnome, “What a joy it would be To give him a plan of each farm, A guide to each hen-roost adjoining his den And thus to protect him from harm. The owl,” he thought, “is an excellent bird Though somewhat addicted to gloom. I’ll buy him a grammar and teach him to say No longer ‘To who!’ but ‘To whom!’
“The squirrel is restless. Some potion or balm Would quiet his nerves for a space; A bottle of tonic would pleasure the fish And set their cold blood in a race. A cheese for the wood-mice I’ll quickly procure; A string of gay beads for the crow; Some greens for the rabbit, some furs for the snake, And skis for the buck and the doe.” With bark for his notebook, a thorn for his pen, His list was soon plainly writ down, And, clinking his money in holiday mood, Our hero set out for the town. The presents he bought were a wonderful sight, They hung from each tree in the wood; No beast was forgotten, no matter how small, No bird, were he evil or good. The elderly gnome of benevolent turn No longer was lonely or sad; In sharing with others he’d found his content, In gladdening, he was made glad.
THE CHRIST-CANDLE
A SONG FOR CHRISTMAS EVE
I
’Tis Holy Night in the hamlet olden, Darkness lowers her curtain down; With fingers of sleep the eyes are holden, Naught is awake in the dreaming town. Shineth one light in a cottage window, Set for the Christ-child’s tender feet, Lest that they stumble, lest that they falter, Passing to-night thro’ the silent street.
Shine, sweet light, from thy humble dwelling, Brightly beam on the toilsome way; Long must he journey--the darling Christ-child-- Far and far has he still to stray.
II
The world is asleep and the world is weary, Scarce it remembers the Holy Night; Error and wretchedness, sinful, dreary, Cover and darken the spirit-sight. Stay not to come to us, blesséd Christ-child, Tho’ we be slumbering, tho’ we forget, Tho’ they be scanty, the lights that await thee, Heavenly Messenger, stay not yet!
Here is my light in my true heart’s window, Angel of Christmastide, come to me; If thou wilt enter so lowly a chamber, Here shall thy home and thy shelter be.
THE GOOD FIR-TREE
There were two little fir-trees that happened to grow In the shade of the forest wide, And one was a good tree and one was as bad As you’d find in a day-long ride. He never would listen, he never would mind The words of the motherly tree; And it needn’t surprise you to learn he was soon As crooked as crooked could be.
The good little fir-tree delighted to hear The counsels of wisdom that fell From the myriad lips of the motherly tree, And he pondered them all right well. “Strike deep with your rootlets,” the mother advised; “Hold firmly your head in the air; There are wonderful things that may happen to come To a fir-tree that’s perfect and fair.”
The bad little sapling was sulky and rude; He said a fine tree never grew In such a deep shade as that tangled-up wood; He was bound to be crooked, he knew. His needles they withered; he blighted at heart; And his fate at the end it was dire; For they pulled him up bodily, rootlet and crown. And they used him to kindle the fire!
But oh, the good fir-tree, he never had hoped And scarce could believe such a thing-- The children discovered his place in the wood And round him they danced in a ring. They carried him homeward, and--what do you think?-- ’Twas the happiest lot that could be,-- And fairest of fortunes that ever befell-- Why, they made him a Christmas Tree!
A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS CAROL
What is the fairest Christmas gift A little child can bring? A heart, as pure and white as plume That drops from angel’s wing. Oh, glad hearts sing, And joy bells ring, In the bright December weather.
What is the sweetest Christmas song A little child can sing? A song of love, of heavenly love, That flows for everything. Oh, glad hearts sing, And joy bells ring, In the bright December weather.
What is the dearest Christmas tune The belfry chimes can ring? A birthday carol they can sound, The birthday of the King. Oh, glad hearts sing, And joy bells ring, In the bright December weather.
THE GOOD SHIP SANTA CLAUS
Let’s take a shiny airship and let’s name it Santa Claus, And go a-whisking off across the blue, And let’s do a lot of errands for the very best of saints, Who hasn’t time for all he wants to do. There are polar bears complaining up among the northern snows That they haven’t any honey for their cubs; And mother mermaids moaning on the bottom of the sea ’Cause they have to do their washing without tubs. There are mud-larks by the dozen who, I’m credibly informed, Have never had a chance to lark in mud, And sea cows ruminating where the water grasses grow, Who have never had a new taste for their cud. There are monkeys in menageries who tell me that it’s years Since they had a single cocoanut to throw, And that as for tails prehensile, they have nothing to prehense, So the object’s a deception and a show. There are jackdaws kept in cages with no single thing to steal, And you know a daw would rather steal than eat; There are kangaroos with pouches just as empty as a gourd Who’d be pleased to fill them up with something sweet; And centipedes who should, by rights, have long ago been shod, Who’ve never even seen a boot or shoe, And owls who keep protesting that they wouldn’t be so dull If they only had a lesson-book or two. And we shan’t forget the parrots, who with beaks designed to hook, Never had an hour’s fishing in their days, Nor the bats, who, if they’d spectacles that really fitted well, Would travel in more reputable ways. What ho! What ho! the Santa Claus! Swoop down from out the sky! We’re ready with our bundles. Heave ahoy! Stand fast and pack her solid to the very outer rim, And tuck in every chink a Christmas toy. As we skim across the water we will drop the presents in For those who dare not venture on the land. And when we reach the forest, we will hang them on the trees And mark them so the least can understand. What ho! What ho! the Santa Claus! The time is growing short-- Pull all the anchors up and let her go! No beast must be forgotten from the East unto the West, Nor from land of southern sun to land of snow.
GRACE FOR CHRISTMAS EVE[2]
The Baby born in Bethlehem A sorry shelter had, While we, who gather here to-night Are warm and softly clad.
The Baby born in Bethlehem Was fed on humble fare, And yet our board is richly spread With dainty food and rare.
Our beds are downy-smooth and white, He slumbered in the hay; ’Tis good that we remember this, Each blesséd Christmas Day.
And good that we remember, too, To pay our thanks and praise To Heavenly Love that brought us here And gave this Day of Days.
FOOTNOTE
[2] From dramatic version of _The Birds’ Christmas Carol_, by Kate Douglas Wiggin.
CHRISTMAS HELPERS
I went to the forest and asked of the trees, As bowing and swaying, they bent to the breeze, “Now, tell me, my brothers, now, tell, if you please, Just what can you do for Christmas?” And straightway they answered, the dark, lofty trees As spicy and fragrant, they waved in the breeze, “We’re trying our best to grow tall, if you please, We’re trying to grow for Christmas!”
I passed by the draper’s and saw in a box, Such masses of stockings, both plain and with clocks; And eager I asked them, “My sweet little socks, Now what will you do for Christmas?” And straightway they answered from out of their box, Those stout-footed stockings, both plain and with clocks,-- “We’ll try to fulfill the first duty of socks,-- We’ll try to keep whole for Christmas!”
I entered the toy shop and said to the toys-- Such wonderful treasures for girls and for boys! “You dear, pretty playthings, you holiday joys, Pray, what will you do for Christmas?” And straightway they answered, those shining new toys, Those marvelous presents for girls and for boys, “To play with a child is the chief of our joys; We’ll visit them all on Christmas.”
To cloudland I wandered and asked of the snow, As dancing and whirling, it sped to and fro, “Now, tell me, fair snowflakes,--I long so to know, Just what are your plans for Christmas!” And straightway they answered, the soft flakes of snow, As circling and floating, they flew to and fro, “We think we should do the best thing, do you know, If we fell thick and white for Christmas.”
I climbed to the belfry and questioned the bell, All murm’ring with sound, like the heart of a shell, “Now, tell me, my silver-tongue, truthfully tell, What song will you sing on Christmas?” And straightway the resonant voice of the bell All vibrant with sound like a tropical shell, Replied, “The glad message I’ll joyfully tell, I’ll ring the Good News on Christmas!”
I asked of the tapers, the stars and each light That blooms in the heavenly garden of night:-- “Now, tell me, ye shining ones, lovely and bright, What best can you do for Christmas?” And straightway they answered, star, taper and light, All blooming and fair in the garden of night;-- “O’er land and o’er ocean, we’ll beam clear and bright, We’ll shine out our best for Christmas!”
A CHRISTMAS ACROSTIC
C arollers singing at morning gray; H olly and ivy in brave array; R inging of bells in the tow’r aloft, I ncense below and a chanting soft,-- S o should it be on Christmas! T elling the tale of the Wonderful Child, M ary, his worshiping Mother mild, A ngels adoring in Heav’n above S inging their praises of infinite love,
_So should it be on Christmas, Ever should be on Christmas!_
THE MAN IN THE MOON
(_A German Folk-Tale_)
In Germany, the story goes, Once lived a thieving peasant, Who pilfered from his neighbor’s stores What to his taste was pleasant. All in a garden, near at hand, Some cabbages were growing, And forth he slipped, one Christmas Eve, No shame, no reverence, knowing, To fill his basket in the dark, When none abroad were going.
He still was pulling, might and main, His greediness unbounded, When on the hard and frosty road A horse’s tramp resounded. White shone the steed, the rider white, His face showed many a wrinkle; Low bent the thief, for silver-bright The stars began to twinkle. “’Tis good Saint Nicholas!” he cried, “I hear his hand-bell tinkle!”
The stately Bishop drew his rein-- He spied the peasant hiding; “’Tis Holy Christmas Eve,” called he, “Thy guilt’s the more abiding! Go stand thou in the frozen moon, And come thou downward never! So long as earth lasts, nothing shall Thee and thy booty sever!”
* * * * *
Still in the moon the culprit dwells, ’Mid cabbages forever!
TO A CHILD ON CHRISTMAS
(ACROSTIC)
C hildren should on Christmas be H and in hand around a tree. R inging voices should resound I n a carol’s joyful round, S inging of the Baby born T o the world on Christmas morn. M usic such as this can say A ll glad things in gladdest way; S ongs of love on Christmas Day!
CHRISTMAS SECRETS
I just love secrets; it’s such fun To hint and whisper, hide and run, And Christmas time of all the year Is just when there’s the greatest fear That folks will find out what you’re doin’ And bring your plans to rack and ruin.
My Christmas shoppin’--it’s all done And presents bought for every one. Nobody knows exceptin’ me What all the things are goin’ to be. They’re always askin’, but I say: “You’d better wait till Christmas Day!”
I’ve bought my father somethin’ white And thin and smooth; you fold it tight And in your pocket is its house; It snuggles there just like a mouse. I told my father all of this, But he says _he_ can’t guess what ’tis!
My mother’s present is to wear, There’s two of it, it’s called a pair; It’s smooth and shiny, black and white, It goes by day and goes by night. My mother guessed a bird, with wings-- When ever did you hear such things!
I bought my sister somethin’ red, You tie it tight around your head; It’s silky-smooth as any rose. What can it be, do you suppose? My sister guessed a bathin’ hat-- As if I’d give a thing like that!
They’re not good guessers, though they’re dear; They’ll never know my plans, that’s clear. When Christmas comes, what glad surprise And thanks will shine from all their eyes. There’s not a clam down by the sea Can hold his tongue so well as Me!
HOW THE CHRIST-FLOWER BLOOMED
(_From a German Legend_)
Dark was the sky that Christmas Eve, The heavy clouds hung low; The charcoal burner scarce could trace His pathway through the snow.
Black Forest trees stood thick and tall, Black Forest drifts were deep; Yet light of heart he hastened home The Christmas feast to keep.
A cheese of goat’s milk, coarse black bread-- The morrow’s scanty meal, From prying frost and envious sleet He struggled to conceal.