"
But still the other cried, with moan and tear,
"I fear the dark--and thee!"
"There is no dark," the angel said, "nor fear,
For those who go with me.
"There is no loneliness, and nevermore
The shadow-haunted night,
When we pass out beyond Life's swinging door
The road," he said, "is bright."
Then backward slipped the cowl from off his head,
Downward the robe of grey;
A radiant presence by the lowly bed
Greeted the breaking day.
* * * * *
Within the long white ward one lay alone,
None watched by him awhile,
But some who passed him said, in whispered tone,
"See--on his lips--the smile!"
WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES
For thee, my small one--trinkets and new toys,
The wine of life and all its keenest joys,
When Christmas comes.
For me, the broken playthings of the past
That in my folded hands I still hold fast,
When Christmas comes.
For thee, fair hopes of all that yet may be,
And tender dreams of sweetest mystery,
When Christmas comes.
For thee, the future in a golden haze,
For me, the memory of some bygone days,
When Christmas comes.
For thee, the things that lightly come and go,
For thee, the holly and the mistletoe,
When Christmas comes.
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