Classic Poem

I

I WATCH him with his Christmas sled;
He hitches on behind
A passing sleigh, with glad hooray,
And whistles down the wind;
He hears the horses champ their bits,
And bells that jingle-jingle —
You Woolly Cap! you Scarlet Mitts!
You miniature " Kriss Kringle " !

I almost catch your secret joy —
Your chucklings of delight,
The while you whiz where glory is
Eternally in sight!
With you I catch my breath, as swift
Your jaunty sled goes gliding
O'er glassy track and shallow drift,
As I behind were riding!

II

He winks at twinklings of the frost,
And on his airy race,
Its tingles beat to redder heat
The rapture of his face: —
The colder, keener is the air,
The less he cares a feather.
But, there! he's gone! and I gaze on
The wintriest of weather!

Ah, Boy! still speeding o'er the track
Where none returns again,
To sigh for you, or cry for you,
Or die for you were vain. —
And so, speed on! the while I pray
All nipping frosts forsake you —
Ride still ahead of grief, but may
All glad things overtake you!