THE HAPPY ENDING

We told dear father all our tale

That night before we went to bed,

And at the end his face grew pale,

And he bent over us and said

( Was it not strange? ) he, too, was there,

A weary, weary watch to keep

Before the gates of the City of Sleep;

But, ere we came, he did not dare

Even to dream of entering in,

Or even to hope for Peterkin.

He was the poor blind man, he said,

And we — how low he bent his head!

Then he called mother near; and low

He whispered to us — “Prompt me now;

For I forget that song we heard,

But you remember every word.”

Then memory came like a breaking morn,

And we breathed it to him — A child was born!

And there he drew us to his breast

And softly murmured all the rest.—

The wise men came to greet him with their gifts of myrrh and frankincense,—

Gold and myrrh and frankincense they brought to make him mirth;

And would you know the way to win to little brother Peterkin,

My childhood's heart shall guide you through the glories of the earth.

Then he looked up and mother knelt

Beside us, oh, her eyes were bright;

Her arms were like a lovely belt

All round us as we said Good-night

To father: he was crying now,

But they were happy tears, somehow;

For there we saw dear mother lay

Her cheek against his cheek and say —

Hush, let me kiss those tears away.