A Smile at Christmas
This little boy I saw across–
the park, and watched his pallid face.
In tattered clothes he was dressed
It looked so awfully old and grey.
What was in his mind, I couldn’t say
He neither looked worried nor depressed.
Walking the path in small, easy steps
He looked so tiny, fragile and weak.
He teetered and trotted for a while until
He landed on my lap to rest.
And then something happened–as though by will
He reached for his pocket and stretched his fingers
for upon his palm was a candy there
offering me his last reserve.
And what was more, it seemed so queer
that such an act like that would appear
from an innocent child who should know more
than let go of his only spare.
I couldn’t say if I cried or smiled
He looked at me with such tranquility and strength
Why should he smile when I gave him–
not a single cent for the candy shared?
But I know now he wouldn’t have cared.
Giving was all he ever dared.