I count, as blessings, to her due:
May God repeat His gift once more.
My little wifey, always dear,
When Christmas comes, I think back then
And greet you with increasing cheer,
My Christmas Gift, returned again.
"It's a beautiful idea, Dick, but it won't do now. There's too much pathos in it for this occasion. When I read the lines myself, I am blinded with tears, for I realize all too keenly that we may not have him another Christmas. Some time, it may be a great comfort to mother to have it. Keep the idea in mind and work it out some day."
So the little poem was folded up and laid away for another year.