"Do you believe in Santa Claus?"
To his little sister cried
A bright-eyed boy; there was a pause
Ere the dainty girl replied,--
"Of course I do, for mamma said
Last Christmas he came through
The chimney while we were in bed,
And all she says is true."
"Pshaw! you are nothing but a girl,
That's why you're humbugged so;
They get your small brain in a whirl
With dolls and toys. I know
A thing or two, if you'll keep dark,
I'll tell you: it's such fun
To outwit grown folks--such a lark!
You won't tell, little one?"
"Tell what? I know he's true, because--"
The boy said, "Stuff! Old Smith--
The preacher--calls your Santa Claus
'A dear, delightful myth.'"
"Maybe that's Santa's other name:
Mamma says he has two."
"He's just a humbug all the same,
You little goosy you.
It means-- Now, Jennie, don't you tell;
I got the whopping book
That teaches grown folks how to spell:
Go get it; you may look
For myth--and it means just the same
As nothing. It's all chaff
About the stockings: Santa's name
Is mamma. We can laugh
At grown folks now. What mortal eye
Has seen him wink and nod?"
"No,--and we can't see through the sky,
Yet all believe in God!"
"That's different, but old Santa's feet
Fit square in mamma's shoes;
His voice, like hers, is low and sweet.
Trust in him if you choose;
You are a girl--such nonsense tells
So differently on boys.
Who hears Kristkinkle's silver bells
Or sees his sleigh of toys?"
Then proudly rose the little maid,
And--pointing far away
To the blue heaven above them--
Said, "Christ came on Christmas day.
We trust in all his names, because
He loves us--he is true;
And, though you call old Santa Claus
A myth, I'll trust him, too."
