On Strike Till 3

Beside the deep ravine the cottage stood, O'erlooking elm and willow, beech and birch, In growth profuse and wild o'er shady stream: And viewing cedar, oak and towering pine On yonder crest aglow with light. How grand The vision in the greenness of the spring, When birds of blue and scarlet vestments come; The greater glory of the summer time, When twinkling wings outvie the rarest flowers; Or ripeness of the fall, when richest green And gold and red in mass of tapestry Delight the eye.
But now the scene is white, Resplendent white. No miser hand hath swept The vale and heights but Nature bountiful Of beauty dazzling pure, the season's own. The spotless path below, meandering midst O'erhanging boughs and drooping plants enwrapped In feathered snow, a reverend scene, appears As if for angels formed, who came to walk This sacred aisle to worship winter's God. The lofty pines that grace the other crest, Enrobed in sparkling splendor, raise their heads In solemn awe to yonder jewelled dome, And offer praise to Him whose temple bright Holds earth and sky.
Beneath a frosted birch, Lit up to brilliance by the burnished moon, The shingle cottage stood, a humble home. The labour of the day was done. The lamp Within sent out its yellow rays athwart The silver snow and on the well-washed sheets And other things that hung on lines and told The woman's calling. Work, from dawn of day Till dark, with poor reward.
'Twas Christmas Eve. The mother and her little boy (his name Was David Annandale) sat down to read And converse hold before they sought repose. A widow young, with richest auburn hair, Bright hazel eyes 'neath finely arching brows, Teeth of pearl, and sympathetic smile Most sweet. No wonder that her child, a lad Of six, with raven hair and ruddy cheeks, Should find in her alone his heart's desire, His reigning thought, the perfect one. His eyes Lovelit no blemish saw in careworn looks.
Her stories, read and told with girlish zeal, Of beaver, bear and wolf, and jet black squirrel, But, best of all, of smiling Santa Claus, Aroused an interest intense. The deep Ravine itself and other themes all passed Beneath her spell. And he, tho' entertained, Was also purified and lifted up. My mother, dear, he said, When I'm a man, I'll work and work for you, and buy a castle And a carriage; you will be a lady, And nevermore be tired.