140
POEMS BY CLARA A. MERRILL
A YULE-TIDE MISSIVE
To my dear friend:—E. L. F.
As onward Old Time is e'er rolling,
And Summer again has gone by;
The sweet bells of Christmas are ringing,
And wafting their music on high—
Telling the same sweet old story,
That ever emotion awakes;
Of Him who was born in a manger
And Who suffered and died for our sakes.
And Summer again has gone by;
The sweet bells of Christmas are ringing,
And wafting their music on high—
Telling the same sweet old story,
That ever emotion awakes;
Of Him who was born in a manger
And Who suffered and died for our sakes.
My wish is, that this day may bring you
Very rich and abundant good cheer;
May yours be a bright happy Christmas,
With friends that are ever sincere.
It is willed that I cannot be with you—
As you still linger "down by the sea;"
But my wish is—and may it be granted—
That one thought-wave may reach you from me,
Very rich and abundant good cheer;
May yours be a bright happy Christmas,
With friends that are ever sincere.
It is willed that I cannot be with you—
As you still linger "down by the sea;"
But my wish is—and may it be granted—
That one thought-wave may reach you from me,
Ere the bells have ceased ringing the tidings
Of Peace and Good Will to all men,"
Old Santa will wake from his slumbers
And, hobbling forth from his den
Of Peace and Good Will to all men,"
Old Santa will wake from his slumbers
And, hobbling forth from his den
