“He comes in the night! / …He softly, silently comes, / While the sweet little heads on the pillows so white / Are dreaming of bugles and drums.” An anonymous writing from 1880 and featured in the December 1998 issue of Victoria magazine.
“She went to bed early, so as to let Santa Claus have a chance at the stockings, …” An excerpt from Christmas Every Day written in 1891 by W. D. Howells and featured in the December 1999 issue of Victoria.
“Then suddenly I heard the sound of bells–sharp, clear bells, coming closer all the time. No other sound had ever been so real. … Now we could hear the squeak of runners in the snow and the thud of the hooves.” An excerpt from The Night We Talked To Santa Claus written in 1965 by Lynne Lofting and featured in the December 1999 issue of Victoria.
What if you could meet with Santa Claus? The M & M candies did in a recent TV commercial. They fainted after realizing he was real, and then Santa fainted after commenting that they were real, too!
Clement C. Moore’s narrator gets a chance to see Santa at work in his home, but doesn’t get the chance for a one-on-one conversation. In this next poem, a little boy did..
The poem is called Santa’s Secret Wish by Betty Werth. It’s a modern day classic…
“On Christmas Eve, a young boy with fight in his eyes, / Looked deep in Santa’s, to Santa’s surprise. / And he said as he nestled on Santa’s broad knee, / ‘I want your secret. Tell it to me…’ / He leaned up and whispered in Santa’s good ear, / ‘How do you do it, year after year?’
“‘I want to know, as you travel about, / Giving gifts here and there, you never run out. / How is it dear Santa that in your pack of toys / You have plenty for all the world’s girls and boys? / Stays so small, never empties, to homes large and small, / From nation to nation, reaching them all?
“And Santa smiled kindly and said to the boy, / ‘Don’t ask me hard questions…don’t you want a toy?’ / But the child shook his head, and Santa could see, / That he needed the answer. … ‘Now listen to me,’ / He told the small boy with the light in his eyes, / ‘My secret will make you sadder and wise…’
“”The truth is that my sack is magic. Inside / It holds a million toys for my Christmas Eve ride. / But although I do visit each girl and each boy / I don’t always leave them a gaily wrapped toy. / Some homes are hungry, some homes are sad, / Some homes are desperate, some homes are bad. / Some homes are broken, and children there grieve. / Those homes I visit, but what should I leave?’
“‘My sleigh is filled with the happiest stuff, / But for homes where despair lives, toys aren’t enough. / So I tiptoe in, kiss each girl and boy, / And pray with them that they’ll be given the joy / Of the spirit of Christmas, the spirit that lives, / In the heart of the dear child who gets not–but gives.
“‘If only God hears me and answers my prayer, / When I visit next year, what I will find there, / Are homes filled with peace, and with giving and love, / And boys and girls gifted with light from above. / It’s a very hard task, my smart little brother, / To give toys to some, and to give prayers to others. / But the prayers are the best gifts–the best gifts, indeed, / For God has a way of meeting each need.’
“‘That’s part of the answer.. the rest, my dear youth, / Is that my sack is magic–and that is the truth. / In my sack I carry on Christmas Eve day, / More love than Santa could e’er give away.
“‘The sack never empties of love, or of joys, / ‘Cause inside it are prayers, and hopes–not just toys… / The more that I give, the fuller it seems, / Because giving is my way of fulfilling dreams.’
“‘And do you know something? You’ve got a sack, too. / It’s as magic as mine and it’s inside of you. / It never gets empty, it’s full from the start, / It’s the center of lights and of love–it’s your heart. / And if on Christmas you want to help me, / Open the sack called your heart, and share / Your joy, your friendship, your wealth–your care.’
“The light in the small boy’s eyes was glowing. / ‘Thanks for the secret; I’ve got to be going.’ / ‘Wait, little boy,’ said Santa, ‘Don’t go. / Will you share? Will you help? Will you use what you know?’ / And just for a moment the small boy stood still.. / Touched his heart with his small hand, and whispered, / ‘I will….’”
It’s a wonderful poem by Betty Werth that was sent to me via e-mail by a listener sometime back. I hope the punctuation is correct not having seen the original.
Peace on Earth begins one home and one heart at a time…
***
Don Jackson
