Of the North I wove a dream,
All bespangled with the gleam
Of the glancing wings of swallows
Another hero of those youthful years
Returns, as Noey Bixler's name appears.
And Noey--if in any special way--
Only a dream!
Her head is bent
Over the keys of the instrument,
While her trembling fingers go astray
There was a curious quiet for a space
Directly following: and in the face
Of one rapt listener pulsed the flush and glow
When frost's all on our winder, an' the snow's
All out-o'-doors, our 'Old-Kriss'-milkman goes
A-drivin' round, ist purt'-nigh froze to death,
In the evening of our days,
When the first far stars above
Dear Lord, to Thee my knee is bent.--
Give me content--
Full-pleasured with what comes to me,
What e'er it be:
Ay, thou varlet! Laugh away!
All the world's a holiday!
Laugh away, and roar and shout
Till thy hoarse tongue lolleth out!
W'y, one time wuz a little-weenty dirl,
An' she wuz named Red Riding Hood, 'cause her--
Her _Ma_ she maked a little red cloak fer her
Ot's a leedle Gristmas story
Dot I told der leedle folks--
Und I vant you stop dot laughin'