Hang up the baby's stocking
Be sure you don't forget!
The dear little dimpled darling,
She never saw Christmas yet!
Meadows with yellow cowslips all aglow,
Glory of sunshine on the uplands bare,
And faint and far, with sweet elusive flow,
Tell the blessèd tidings, children of the King,
With your glad hosannas make the morning ring:
Songs of His salvation, nevermore should cease;
I love to hear the story
Which angel voices tell,
How once the King of glory
Oh realm of light! whose morning star
To Bethlehem's manger led the way,
Not yet upon our longing eyes
They say that the year is old and gray,
That his eyes are dim with sorrow;
But what care we, though he pass away?
I know the song that the bluebird is singing,
Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging;
Brave little fellow, the skies may look dreary;