Every night he would creep from the house,
And lie down by the side of his wife,
Just as softly, and still as a mouse,
For to her he had promised his life.
His young son one fierce, cold winter night
Had aroused from his bed, went to see
If permission from father he might
Go to hunt for a green Christmas tree.
And not finding his father in bed,
He but followed along in his trail.
Upon finding him, homeward he led,
Quickly on, with a pitiful wail.
Just as they stepped within the front door,
The child glanced up above to the sky:
"Look up, Father; there mother is sure,
Asking you what's the reason, and why
You should cling to her grave in the earth,
While she's waiting in heaven for you,
A home that is of far greater worth.
Your true love for her always she knew."
And just as his poor father looked up,
He saw o'er the dark heavens there swung
A bright meteor's brimming full cup,
Upside down, spilling milk as it hung,
Like a bride trailing on far behind,
Her frail, misty, soft veil of fine tulle;
With the rarest of silk it was lined,
A full radiant vision to fool
A mere child, full of images rare.
But a lesson the father then learned:
And lie down by the side of his wife,
Just as softly, and still as a mouse,
For to her he had promised his life.
His young son one fierce, cold winter night
Had aroused from his bed, went to see
If permission from father he might
Go to hunt for a green Christmas tree.
And not finding his father in bed,
He but followed along in his trail.
Upon finding him, homeward he led,
Quickly on, with a pitiful wail.
Just as they stepped within the front door,
The child glanced up above to the sky:
"Look up, Father; there mother is sure,
Asking you what's the reason, and why
You should cling to her grave in the earth,
While she's waiting in heaven for you,
A home that is of far greater worth.
Your true love for her always she knew."
And just as his poor father looked up,
He saw o'er the dark heavens there swung
A bright meteor's brimming full cup,
Upside down, spilling milk as it hung,
Like a bride trailing on far behind,
Her frail, misty, soft veil of fine tulle;
With the rarest of silk it was lined,
A full radiant vision to fool
A mere child, full of images rare.
But a lesson the father then learned:
[131]
