Spring and Summer and russet Fall
Come and go with a varied cheer;
Each has something, and none has all,
Of the good things of the year.
Winter laughs, though the trees are bare,
With a kindly laugh that is good to see;
For of all the forest is none so rare
As his merry Christmas-tree.
It blooms with many a gift and game;
And hidden under the leaves of green
Are fruits of every shape and name,
The funniest ever seen,—
Book and bundle, and scarf, and shawl,
Picture and peanuts, skate and saw,
Candy and album, and bat and ball,
Hatchet, and doll, and taw,
Games and frames, and comical dames
With walnut faces wrinkled and old,
Fillets rare for the sunny hair,
And jewels of pearl and gold.
For the good St. Nicholas blest this tree,
And it blooms and bears for every one,
With a gift of love to you and me,
For beauty, or use, or fun.
Poorer than any the Child whose name
Has given a name to our Christmas-tree;
Yet kingly gifts to his cradle came,
And kingly gifts gave He.