In a weary land of exile there has come to me a token,
A wreath of pearly mistletoe around a holly spray:
O, whose the fond remembrance? What message is unspoken?
Say, darlings of my childhood, whence came ye here to-day?
O, whose the fond remembrance? What message is unspoken?
Say, darlings of my childhood, whence came ye here to-day?
We grew within a shrubbery where little ones were playing,
As we glisten'd in the ice-drops, or bent beneath the snow:
And we lingered in the lanes where the village maids were straying,
Adding lustre to their golden hair, and crimson to their glow.
As we glisten'd in the ice-drops, or bent beneath the snow:
And we lingered in the lanes where the village maids were straying,
Adding lustre to their golden hair, and crimson to their glow.
We have shaken to the peal when the merry bells were ringing,
And nodded from the casements whence we greeted you of yore;
Have hush'd us to the cradle-hymn a mother's voice was singing.
And danced among the little feet that patter there no more.
And nodded from the casements whence we greeted you of yore;
Have hush'd us to the cradle-hymn a mother's voice was singing.
And danced among the little feet that patter there no more.
We have trotted with the schoolboy when, gaily homeward riding,
Have splash d us in his light canoe, or flutter'd with his kite,
Have rush'd upon the railway car, and waited at the siding,
Have peep'd into the gloomy mine, and climbed the mountain-height.
Have splash d us in his light canoe, or flutter'd with his kite,
Have rush'd upon the railway car, and waited at the siding,
Have peep'd into the gloomy mine, and climbed the mountain-height.
We have watch'd together in the ward where skilful hands were tending
The wounds of work and war among the steadfast and the bold:
And have deck'd the homely basket in which sympathy was sending
The clothing for the new-born, and the cordial for the old.
The wounds of work and war among the steadfast and the bold:
And have deck'd the homely basket in which sympathy was sending
The clothing for the new-born, and the cordial for the old.
We have cast us on the lowly grave where pious hands were laying
The Cross that tells of victory, the Crown that hallows pain;
We have bowed beside the altar where earnest hearts were praying,
And twining formed the text of the grand angelic strain.
The Cross that tells of victory, the Crown that hallows pain;
We have bowed beside the altar where earnest hearts were praying,
And twining formed the text of the grand angelic strain.
Then, when good Father Christmas went sailing o'er the ocean,
With store of earthly comfort and a more than earthly smile,
We waved upon his topmast and bent to his devotion
As he poured a hearty blessing on his new-adopted isle.
With store of earthly comfort and a more than earthly smile,
We waved upon his topmast and bent to his devotion
As he poured a hearty blessing on his new-adopted isle.
He has planted here his footstep, and his banner floating o'er us
Speaks health to the laborious, and honour to the true:
And homes of love and leisure in the sunny years before us,
Where with kindred bloom we mingle for your children and you.
Speaks health to the laborious, and honour to the true:
And homes of love and leisure in the sunny years before us,
Where with kindred bloom we mingle for your children and you.
By Emily Mary Barton
Art Anne Stokes
Art Anne Stokes
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