CHRISTMAS IS COMING!

When the ruddy autumn leaves

Flutter down on golden sheaves,

And on plum-trees one perceives

No more plums—

All the swallows have not fled,

Hardly is the summer dead—

Then, alas, it must be said

Christmas comes!

Christmas! Hang it all! But how

Can that be? 'Tis weeks from now.

What a fearful thought, I vow

That it numbs!

"Order Christmas papers" fills

Bookshops, bookstalls. With its bills,

Taxes, tips, fogs, frosts, coughs, chills,

Christmas comes!

Even Christmas-cards appear,

They are with us half the year,

I would banish them from here,

Say, to Thrums,

Or to any mournful place,

Where I'd never show my face,

For they tell one that, apace,

Christmas comes!

Seasonable Christmas Motto for Well-Known Fine-Art Publishers.—"Tuck in!"