Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/64



EAREST, how hard it is to say

That all is for the best,

Since, sometimes, in a grievous way

God's will is manifest.

See with what hearty, noisy glee

Our little ones to-night

Dance round and round our Christmas tree

With pretty toys bedight.

Dearest, one voice they may not hear,

One face they may not see—

Ah, what of all this Christmas cheer

Cometh to you and me?

Cometh before our misty eyes

That other little face,

And we clasp, in tender, reverent wise,

That love in the old embrace.