Robert Kirkland Kernighan

(25 April 1854 – 3 November 1926 / Ontario)

Little All Right's Christmas - Poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan

Little All Right was sick, I ween ;

Little All Right was weak and wan,
And a beautiful angel all unseen

Was fitting his golden slippers on ;
He felt a stranger's soft caress :


He felt a stranger's soft caress :

He looked and smiled with a hopeful nod ;
' Little All Right 's in luck : I guess

He '11 spend his Christmas day with God.'

He went with the angel nurse who waits,

And All Right's boyish soul was gone ;
He hurried aloft to the golden gates

Just at the break of the Christmas dawn ;
The anthems filled his heart with fear :

He shrank away and fain would hide,
'Till he beckoned a small boy angel near

And whispered low : ' Is God inside ?'

The small boy angel sized him up,

And wiped the tears from his frightened eyes ;
He gave him a drink from a golden cup,

Looking so innocent, good and wise ;
And soon a beautiful question came

Came with a flood of heavenly light
A soft voice asked him : ' What's your name?'

And our hero answered : ' I 'm All Right !'

Open they flung the golden gate

In the rose and pearl of the Christmas dawn,



And Little All Right, with heart elate,
Walked in with his golden slippers on ;

Saint Peter bent with a reverent kiss,

And looked in the child's eyes sweet and bright ;

Then gravely asked, ' Now, who is this?'
And heaven thundered, 'He's All Right!'

His Savior came with a splendid grace,
And lifted him on his bended knee ;

All Right looked up in the beauteous face,
And, ' Many happy returns,' said he ;

His Savior gave him a crown of gold,
Studded with jewels pure and bright ;

With these sweet words thereon inscrolled :

' A Christmas present for Little All Right.'


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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 14, 2012



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