Christmas Every Week: When I Believed In Santa Claus
Arnold Kellett’s poem expresses tender memories of childhood.
When I believed in Santa Claus,
I'd go to bed devoutly thrilled,
In sure and certain Christmas hope
Of stocking and pillow-case lavishly filled.
Then at some pitch-black freezing hour
I'd wake to feel with blissful feet
The magic burden on the bed
Oh, spine-tingling, ravishing Santa Claus treat!
'He's been!' came a whisper through the dark,
But I'd tell my young brother that Dad said to wait,
And we'd drift into a luxurious sleep,
To dream of delight at a quarter to eight.
And at the merest hint of dawn
We'd extricate treasures with whoops of pure joy:
An apple, an orange, new penny, much more
And the special, long hoped-for, heart-throbbing toy!
Ah! Tender the memories of all that I miss,
As life to its swift conclusion draws;
And best of a thousand thrills of bliss:
When I believed in Santa Claus!
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