A Christmas present is easy to make, But a token of friendship should follow, Mine is enclosed in the turkey you take, Which is solid proof it is not hollow. As a toothsome sign of love it is sent, And to show you what our Maker can do, He tells us to love with earnest intent, And has provided this turkey for you. Take it, and bake it, then richly enjoy, And forget not the friend you befriended, Whose heart will ever remember with joy, The kind assistance you promptly lended. May God bless you and your family dear, And keep all of you healthy and happy, That you may gladly welcome each New Year, And on every Christmas be merry. TO MRS. HARRIET S. DELANO AND HER BABY. Written 1858. Sweet innocence, love and beauty rest, Wrapped in affection on mother’s breast, While hopes and fears in profusion rise, And fill with sweet tears the joyful eyes Of the kind mother whose heart is bent, In meek thankfulness to Him who sent This type of beauty, sweet child of love, Rich token from the heavens above, To cheer the pure and unselfish heart, Of a mother who with life would part, To save her child from the paths of sin, And guide her so she heaven will win. Then in the soft realms of earthly bliss, Made lovelier by her mother’s kiss, She will need no more a guide to show, The straight road she has been taught to go. The mother has then her duty done, Who so well instructs her little one, She covers her with a mother’s love, Then trusts her to the wise God above. Now to the babe and to its mother, That you may each one love the other, And never from your good reason part, I will beg and pray with all my heart. FOR THE BABY. O what a charming baby I see, Dancing on its kind father’s knee, With eyes as pretty and as bright, As the white stars that shine at night. And cheeks as lovely as the rose, Which add much beauty to a nose, Made handsome by a pretty chin, And ruby lips nicely set in. And what is more her name so sweet, So charming, dainty, nice and neat, Darling Hattie, short and pretty, And that’s why I wrote this ditty. LINES ON MY FATHER. The oak its mighty branches spread, And gathered in the cooling dew, And thus by gen’rous nature fed, To a noble old tree it grew. So sought he knowledge far and wide, And grew in wisdom as in age, And when his worn out body died, He was a ripe and honored sage. ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET. First think of something good to say, Then take great pains to say it well, Make sure you know the proper way, To fairly write and rightly spell.