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Article A LOVE-TOKEN". Page 1 of 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
A Love-Token".
A LOVE-TOKEN " .
TO OLD " ^ FATHER CHRISTMAS . uw A footstep soundeth on the road of Time ; 'Tis like an old man ' s tread , Feeble , but yet in weakness how sublime , Proclaiming strength had fled ; While yet each moment doth reverb'rate back , The majesty that passes o ' er its track .
Tis a familiar sound , a welcome one ; He cometh not alone , Dear Father Christmas—there is shadowy fun Glancing through every tone ; And thy old fingers—can it be they ' re old?— - Give life ' s most worthless things a worth untold .
Thy hair is silver , so is too thy laugh , As thou dost onward stride , Leaning thy frame upon thy frost-tipp'd staff , While quick behind thee glide The hosts of busy hands , to search each nook Of thy huge pockets for some cake or book .
A welcome , ay , a hearty welcome too , We give thee , and would fain The arch affection of thy smile review , Thy old voice hear again ; For round thy lips are playing shadowy things , The undulations of a seraph ' s wings .
Seraphic now what once mong us was beaming , They hover still round thee ; Thy presence waketh up a wondrous dreaming Of all that used to be . Familiar joys and faces come back now , As our fire-light doth flicker on thy brow .
Pear Father Christmas , how thy deep tones lie " ( J poii our quivering hearts , As on some instrument wild melody Breathes before it departs , Then flutt'ring as a birdlet o ' er its nest , Sinks in low murmurs to a holy rest .
Welcome again , for lonely thoughts are nestling Down on thy earliest glance ; Thou with the sleeping past art strongly wrestling , To wake it from its trance ; And if thou standest by an empty shrine , Dost thou not bring the treasure back divine ! Em mi ;; Mtw ;
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
A Love-Token".
A LOVE-TOKEN " .
TO OLD " ^ FATHER CHRISTMAS . uw A footstep soundeth on the road of Time ; 'Tis like an old man ' s tread , Feeble , but yet in weakness how sublime , Proclaiming strength had fled ; While yet each moment doth reverb'rate back , The majesty that passes o ' er its track .
Tis a familiar sound , a welcome one ; He cometh not alone , Dear Father Christmas—there is shadowy fun Glancing through every tone ; And thy old fingers—can it be they ' re old?— - Give life ' s most worthless things a worth untold .
Thy hair is silver , so is too thy laugh , As thou dost onward stride , Leaning thy frame upon thy frost-tipp'd staff , While quick behind thee glide The hosts of busy hands , to search each nook Of thy huge pockets for some cake or book .
A welcome , ay , a hearty welcome too , We give thee , and would fain The arch affection of thy smile review , Thy old voice hear again ; For round thy lips are playing shadowy things , The undulations of a seraph ' s wings .
Seraphic now what once mong us was beaming , They hover still round thee ; Thy presence waketh up a wondrous dreaming Of all that used to be . Familiar joys and faces come back now , As our fire-light doth flicker on thy brow .
Pear Father Christmas , how thy deep tones lie " ( J poii our quivering hearts , As on some instrument wild melody Breathes before it departs , Then flutt'ring as a birdlet o ' er its nest , Sinks in low murmurs to a holy rest .
Welcome again , for lonely thoughts are nestling Down on thy earliest glance ; Thou with the sleeping past art strongly wrestling , To wake it from its trance ; And if thou standest by an empty shrine , Dost thou not bring the treasure back divine ! Em mi ;; Mtw ;