Good-Bye Yuletide

The Yuletide bells are echoes now,

The lilt of laughter's dying out,

Departing guests with backward bow

Have said farewell, without a doubt.

Old Santa Claus by now, we'd say,

Sits dreaming by his fireside

Of how he spread on land and sea

The gladness of a Christmastide.

But there'll be memories enough

To glorify the lingering look;

The sad array of trimming stuff,

The garish tie, the unread book.

The rocking horse has broken down,

A mannikin has lost an eye,

A wilting forest through the town

Will waft an incense to the sky.

Ah yes, and many bills to pay

For all this largess of a hand

That felt disposed to give away

The finest treasure of the land.

Perhaps you went a bit too steep

For all that wealth beneath the tree

That lies there in a tangled heap

As if the earth were full and free.

But you will get it paid somehow

And write it off as merriment

That hung resplendent from a bough

Now naked, wilted, bent.

Oh, surely it was worth it all,

To feel the rapture of a child

When first it saw the blinking doll

Awaken in a world beguiled.

Or infant take its stocking down,

Tiptoe in wildest glee,

To give mankind the high renown

Of one glad day of fantasy.

So 'Merry Christmas' echoes on --

The world's eternal Yuletide text --

And goodwill rides the crest of song

From this December to the next.

Louis W. Larsen