BEHIND full many a gift there lies <br />A splendid tale of sacrifice. <br /> <br />On Christmas morn a mother's hand <br />About a young girl's neck will place <br />A trinket small, and she will stand <br />With radiant smiles upon her face <br />To see her daughter decked in gold, <br />Nor will she think, nor will she care <br />That she may suffer from the cold <br />Because that bauble glistens there. <br /> <br />A child will wake on Christmas Day <br />And find his stocking filled with toys; <br />The home will ring with laughter gay, <br />That boy be glad as richer boys. <br />And there a mother fond will sing <br />A song of joy to hear his shout, <br />Forgetting every needed thing <br />That she will have to do without. <br /> <br />A heart that's brimming o'er with love <br />Will suffer gladly for a friend, <br />And take no time in thinking of <br />How much it can afford to spend. <br />And suddenly on Christmas morn <br />Will gladness beam from shining eyes, <br />A gladness that alone was born <br />Of someone's willing sacrifice. <br /> <br />Let cynics scoff howe'er they will <br />And say but fools such presents give, <br />There'll be such sacrifices till <br />All human love shall cease to live. <br />'Twould be a dreary world of thrift, <br />Of barren ways, and sunless skies, <br />If no one ever gave a gift <br />That was not born of sacrifice. <br /> <br />The brightest gifts that us reward <br />Are those the givers can't afford.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sacrifices-6/
