Again he stands under the holly With a blushing face lifted to his; For love has been stronger than folly, And has turned him from vice unto bliss; And the whole world is lit with new glory As the sweet vows are uttered again, While the Christmas bells tell the old story Of peace unto men. Again, with his little brood ’round him, He sits by the fair mother-wife; He knows that the angels have crowned him With the truest, best riches of life; And the hearts of the children, untroubled, Are filled with the gay Christmas-tide; And the gifts for sweet Maudie are doubled, ’Tis her birthday, beside. Again,--ah, dear Jesus, have pity-- He finds in the chill, waning day, That one has come home from the city-- Frail Maudie, whom love led astray. She lies with her babe on her bosom-- Half-hid by the snow’s fleecy spread; A bud and a poor trampled blossom-- And both are quite dead. So fair and so fragile! just twenty-- How mocking the bells sound to-night! She starved in this great land of plenty, When she tried to grope back to the light. Christ, are Thy disciples inhuman, Or only for _men_ hast Thou died? No mercy is shown to a woman Who once steps aside. Again he leans over the shrouded Still form of the mother and wife; Very lonely the way seems, and clouded, As he looks down the vista of life. With the sweet Christmas chimes there is blended The knell for a life that is done, And he knows that his joys are all ended And his waiting begun. So long have the years been, so lonely, As he counts them by Christmases gone. “I am homesick,” he murmurs; “if only The Angel would lead the way on. I am cold, in this chill winter weather; Why, Maudie, dear, where have you been? And you, too, sweet wife--and together-- O Christ, let me in.” The children ran in from the hallway, “Were you calling us, grandpa?” they said. Then shrank, with that fear that comes alway When young eyes look their first on the dead. The freedom so longed for is given. The children speak low and draw near: “Dear grandpa keeps Christmas in Heaven With grandma, this year.” AFTER THE ENGAGEMENT. Well, Mabel, ’tis over and ended-- The ball I wrote was to be; And oh! it was perfectly splendid-- If you _could_ have been here to see. I’ve a thousand things to write you That I know you are wanting to hear, And one, that is sure to delight you-- I am wearing Joe’s diamond, my dear! Yes, mamma is quite ecstatic That I am engaged to Joe; She thinks I am rather erratic, And feared that I might say “no.” But, Mabel, I’m twenty-seven (Though nobody _dreams_ it, dear), And a fortune like Joe’s isn’t given To lay at one’s feet each year.