I count my treasures o’er with care--
A little toy that baby knew--
A little lock of faded hue--
A little lock of golden hair.
Long years ago this Christmas time,
My little one--my all to me--
Sat, robed in white, upon my knee,
And heard the Merry Christmas chime.
“Tell me, my little golden-head,
If Santa Claus should come to-night,
What shall he bring my baby bright--
What treasure for my boy?” I said.
And then he named the little toy,
While in his round and truthful eyes
There came a look of glad surprise
That spoke his trustful, childish joy.
And as he lisped his evening pray’r,
He asked the boon with baby grace,
And toddling to the chimney place,
He hung his little stocking there.
That night, as length’ning shadows crept,
I saw the white-winged angels come
With music to our humble home
And kiss my darling as he slept.
They must have heard his baby pray’r,
For in the morn, with glowing face,
He toddled to the chimney place
And found the little treasure there.
They came again one Christmas tide--
That angel host, so fair and white--
And, singing all the Christmas night,
They lured my darling from my side.
A little sock, a little toy--
A little lock of golden hair--
The Christmas music on the air--
A watching for my baby boy.
But if again that angel train
And golden-head come back for me,
To bear me to eternity,
My watching will not be in vain.
Other efforts in a similar vein followed, of which the following is a
fair sample: