Greetings, Poetry Lovers! I hope you are finding joy in this holiday season, even as the world has plenty of turmoil.
I found a poem in the December, 1907, issue of LITTLE FOLKS magazine (S. E. Cassino Co., Salem, Mass.) to share. It's by Carolyn S. Bailey and features a small mouse with a big heart.
The Kind Little Mouse
by Carolyn S. Bailey
OH, one little Stocking was mended and whole,
And hung by the fire with care,
And one full of holes on the nursery floor,
Too ragged and worn to wear:
And no one was awake in all the house
But one little, still little, kind little Mouse!
Then down through the flue did Santa Claus come,
All ashes and chimney-stuff,
To fill the whole Stocking a-bursting with toys
Till he thought he'd filled it enough:
And the kind little Mouse said he didn't believe
There was any so fat that Christmas Eve!
Then Santa drove on, and the fire buned low,
And lower, till by and by
The poor little Stocking that had no toys
Sat up and was like to cry:
But nobody heard it in all the house
Save that one little, still little, kind wee mouse!
"It isn't my fault I'm worn out," it said;
"And the holes are but small -- oh, dear,
To think that to-night it is Christmas Eve,
And I'm sitting empty here!"
Then the Mouse stopped nibbling his Christmas cheese:
"Don't cry, little Stocking," he said; "don't, please!"
Then that small little, kind little Mouse, he crept
In the empty stocking's toe:
Oh, he gave himself -- it was all that he had --
He could do no more, you know!
Such a kind little, good little, dear little Mouse,
That Christmas Eve in the lonely old house!
For more goodness and warmth, visit our multi-talented Michelle who is offering light and an amazing art exhibit this week along with the Roundup. Thank you, Michelle! We can all use all the light we can get. Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating this week, and Merry Christmas to those celebrating next week. And, Happy Winter Solstice on Sunday! We will be in Georgia celebrating our second baby grand's first birthday this weekend. Time does fly. And selfless love, like that of the wee mouse in this poem, is timeless -- and perfectly on point for Christmas, seems to me.
