We go to church on Christmas Day, Mary and I, sedately, My sweetheart softly gowned in gray With quiet step and stately; She will not smile at what I say -- Her lashes veil her cheek -- What saint devout e'er knelt to pray With face more calm and meek? I would not dare to touch her hand, Of very smiles I'm chary; Some things no man may understand, But this is -- this is Mary. We go to Martin's Christmas night, Molly and I, for dinner; Whose smile so quick, whose eyes so bright As those of my sweet sinner? We chat, we laugh, we toast, we quite Lose sight of the hereafter, I -- and my darling heart's delight Aglow with fun and laughter. Beneath the cloth I press her hand, My chum, so sweet and jolly; Some things no man may understand, But this is -- this is Molly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TAY BRIDGE DISEASTER by WILLIAM MCGONAGALL AN ODE IN TIME OF HESITATION by WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY BALLAD OF THE WOMEN OF PARIS by FRANCOIS VILLON THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 55. ALLAH-AL-MATEEN by EDWIN ARNOLD A DESCRIPTION OF LONDON by JOHN BANCKS |