They've hung their stockings up with care, <br />And I am in my old arm chair, <br />And mother's busy dragging out <br />The parcels hidden all about. <br />Within a corner, gaunt to see, <br />There stands a barren Christmas tree, <br />But soon upon its branches green <br />A burst of splendor will be seen. <br />And when the busy tongues grow still, <br />That now are wagging with a will <br />Above me as I sit and rest, <br />I shall be at my happiest. <br />The greatest joy man can receive <br />Is being Dad on Christmas eve. <br /> <br />Soon I shall toil with tinsel bright; <br />Place here and there a colored light, <br />And wheresoe'er my fingers lie <br />To-morrow shall a youngster spy <br />Some wonder gift or magic toy, <br />To fill his little soul with joy. <br />The stockings on the mantle piece <br />I'll bulge with sweets, till every crease <br />That marks them now is stretched away. <br />There will be horns and drums to play <br />And dolls to love. For it's my task <br />To get for them the joys they ask. <br />What greater charm can fortune weave <br />Than being Dad on Christmas eve? <br /> <br />With all their pomp, great monarchs miss <br />The happiness of scenes like this. <br />Rich halls to-night are still and sad, <br />Because no little girl or lad <br />Shall wake upon the morn to find <br />The joys that love has left behind. <br />Oh, I have had my share of woe- <br />Known what it is to bear a blow- <br />Shed sorrow's tears and stood to care <br />When life seemed desolate and bare, <br />Yet here to-night I smile and say <br />Worth while was all that came my way. <br />For this one joy, all else I'd leave: <br />To be their Dad on Christmas eve.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/being-dad-on-christmas-eve/
