The Everything Family Christmas Book (36 page)

There was a word or two in your mama’s letter which I couldn’t be certain of. I took it to be “a trunk full of doll’s clothes.” Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o’clock to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to open the door. Then he must go back to the dining room or the china closet and take the cook with him. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak—otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse’s bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, “Welcome, Santa Claus!” Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what
color
you want the trunk to be.

Your mama will help you to name a nice color and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say “Good-by and a merry Christmas to my little Susie Clemens,” you must say “Good-by, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much and please tell that little Snow Flake I will look at her star tonight and she must look down here—I will be right in the west bay window; and every fine night I will look at her star and say, ‘I know somebody up there and
like
her, too.'” Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall—if it is a trunk you want—because I couldn’t get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know.

People may talk if they want, until they hear my footsteps in the hall. Then you tell them to keep quiet a little while till I go back up the chimney. Maybe you will not hear my footsteps at all—so you may go now and then and peep through the dining-room doors, and by and by you will see that thing which you want, right under the piano in the drawing room—for I shall put it there.

If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven’t time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag—else he will die someday. You must watch George and not let him run into danger. If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and somebody points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus’s boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Good-by for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen doorbell.

Your loving SANTA CLAUS

Whom people sometimes call “The Man in the Moon”

Humorist Mark Twain (1835–1910) is well known to readers around the world for his classic novels The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, but the former Mississippi steamboat pilot and newspaperman was a prolific lecturer and traveler as well. With a keen eye for observing his surroundings and a keen intellect with which to interpret them, he is one of America’s most-loved authors.

7
Christmas Poems

F
rom William Shakespeare to Robert Frost, some of the most notable poets in history have written about Christmas. In this chapter, you’ll find unforgettable verse that was written to evoke the holiday atmosphere. You might recognize some of the poems—after all, who could forget “'Twas the Night Before Christmas”—but you might discover some new favorites, too. Whether you choose to read the selections aloud or enjoy them in a quiet moment, you’re sure to get a big dose of the season’s special spirit!

The Holly and the Ivy

Traditional

In English lore, holly and ivy were often personified as male and female, which made them popular topics for carols. In the words to this carol, however—which reads wonderfully as a poem—the holly represents the Virgin Mary, while the berry stands for the infant Jesus.

The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.

The rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly bears a blossom
As white as the lily flower,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet Savior.

The holly bears a berry
As red as any blood,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To do poor sinners good.

The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas day in the morn.

The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.

The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood
The holly bears the crown.

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

Anonymous

The author of this poem is, unfortunately, unknown. Simple and beautiful, “Merry Christmas, Everyone!” provides a memorable picture of childhood innocence and anticipation at Christmas time.

In the rush of the merry morning,
When the red burns through the gray,
And the wintry world lies waiting
For the glory of the day,
Then we hear a fitful rushing
Just without, upon the stair,
See two white phantoms coming,
Catch the gleam of sunny hair.

Rosy feet upon the threshold,
Eager faces peeping through,
With the first red ray of sunshine
Chanting cherubs come in view;
Mistletoe and gleaming holly,
Symbols of a blessed day,
In their chubby hands they carry,
Streaming all along the way.

Well we know them, never weary
Of their innocent surprise;
Waiting,
watching, listening always
With full hearts and tender eyes,
While our little household angels,
White and golden in the Sun,
Greet us with the sweet old welcome—
“Merry Christmas, everyone!”

Mistletoe

Walter de la Mare

In years past, mistletoe wasn’t just an excuse for kissing—people also believed that it brought good luck. While mistletoe can be found hanging above the doorways of many homes today (as a gesture of welcome as well as an excuse for a smooch), it has historically been prohibited from church premises because of its status as an old-world charm.

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

Walter De La Mare (1873–1956) grew up in Kent, a county known as the “garden of England” for its lovely countryside. After attending school in London, he worked as an accountant for an oil company, which is when he began writing. He’s known for his poetry, which often has an air of the supernatural.

Christmas Trees

Robert Frost

Robert Frost, perhaps the single most popular American poet, gained a worldwide audience by writing about nature and life in the country, so it’s very appropriate that he chose to write about the Christmas tree. His offering gently explores the tension between commercialism and the natural way of life.

The city had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
When between whirls of snow not come to lie
And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove
A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,
Yet did in country fashion in that there
He sat and waited till he drew us out,
A-buttoning coats, to ask him who he was.
He proved to be the city come again
To look for something it had left behind
And could not do without and keep its Christmas.
He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;
My woods—the young fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are churches and have spires.
I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas trees.
I doubt if I was tempted for a moment
To sell them off their feet to go in cars
And leave the slope behind the house all bare,
Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.
I’d hate to have them know it if I was.
Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees except
As others hold theirs or refuse for them,
Beyond the time of profitable growth,
The trial by market everything must come to.
I dallied so much with the thought of selling.