Santa has a problem.

Dark was the dreary winter night,
Bleak and cold did the north wind blow –
Out in the storm was no gleam of light,
To shine on the fallen snow.

Dreaming, I sat by my glowing fire,
But I shivered to hear the storm
That merciless raged around the poor,
Who had nothing to keep them warm.

Then I thought that the Holy Christmastime,
The joyous feast of the year,
With scenes of gladness and of mirth,
Was rapidly drawing near.

When I thought I heard a sigh, deep drawn,
And I glanced from the burning wood
To the form of the good old Christmas King,
Who before me, life-like stood.

There were tears in good St. Nicholas’ eyes,
There was sorrow in his face;
On his royal robes, and his kingly form
Had the “panic” left its trace.

“You see,” he said, “that my robe of fur
Is the same that I wore last year;
And I’ll have to travel Christmas Eve,
Without even one new reindeer.

“And my sled, too, is not half so large
At the one you used to see;
And I’ll have to pass by many a home,
Where children are waiting for me.

“Will you see my scanty Christmas store?”
And he sadly opened his pack.
‘Twas small, and oh, to my eager eyes,
It many things seemed to lack.

It is true , for the children of the rich
There were costly gifts, yea, more,
Of the jewels rare and the golden toys,
Than I ever saw before!

There was lack for the children of the poor –
No shoes nor hats for the boys;
Not a single suit of the cheaper clothes,
And none of the low-priced toys.

My heart grew sad, for so well I knew
How the eager, gladsome eyes
Would turn away from the empty socks,
And grow tearful in surprise.

“O, wait!” he said, and his good old face
With the radiant thought grew bright;
“I guess, with a little outside help,
We will set this thing all right!”

And, then in the twinkling of an eye,
He dashed through the snow and rain,
And brought another pack from his sled,
And before me stood again.

He opened it. “See!” and before me placed
Countless garments, half-worn, some new –
And toys by the wholesale, some for the boys,
And some for the sweet girls, too.

“Where did I get them?” “Why,” said he,
“They are some of last year’s store,
That are sent by the children of the rich,
To the children of the poor!”

Thus we learn from the good old Christmas King
A sweet lesson of charity –
And I trust that the children near and far
Will his message take from me.

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© Gregory Christiano, 2004, All Rights Reserved.