OCR Text |
Show J4ie Scfdiet Jiij By Ruth Hamilton HONORABLE MENTION It was twelve o'clock and the house lay still In the dark of the night on that snow covered hill. When suddenly, from the nursery there came The sound of footsteps of one who was lame. Through the hall he silently crept, Now down the stairs while he should have slept. Through the door to the living room peeped, Then quickly into the room he leaped. With his crutch under his arm he made his way To the mantel where his stocking lay. From top to toe from Santa so deft Were odd shaped bundles which he had left. The little lame lad was warmly clad; He shouldn't have come down, and yet he had. His frail little body trembled with joy As he saw the coveted soldier boy. It was dressed in red, and held a real little drum Which played when it walked with a press of his thumb. The Christmas tree and every toy Were nothing compared to his soldier sol-dier boy. A big choo choo train, and a woolly dog, A little truck which held a log, A striped ball of blue and red, And a cuddly teddy-bear ready for bed. Glittering tinsel and lights that were strung From every branch of the Christmas Christ-mas tree hung. But his eye was only for one little toy, The others were nothing to his soldier boy. The glow of the fire on his tiny head Reminded him of his snowy white bed. So down on the big warm hearth he lay Tired, yet happy, but forgotten was play. His big blue eyes were soon closed tight, And his little face showed in the firelight. Then suddenly the scene is changed chang-ed and the little boy no longer long-er is lame. He is big, and tall, and grown up now, But the light in his eyes is still the same. He is dressed in the suit of a soldier sol-dier boy So like his little old soldier toy. In place of a drum he carries a gun Which shoots to kill, but which isn't fun. He is fighting with many others as brave Who will fight for their lives, and their country to save. And blood on the fields mark death and disaster As they fell one by one without thought of the Master. The shots from the cannons that hit the spot Killed people by thousands who were trapped, and caught. Burning buildings and ruins layed Where once in peace the children ' played. Christmas day meant nothing then To the men there on the battlefield. battle-field. , And the cannons kept up the steady roar Saying that people were safe no more. Remember back a long time ago. When the fire was burning very lowf, And on the hearth was a little lame boy And in his arms laid the soldier toy. The joy it brought to that little lame lad That Christmas eve, and the fun he had. If all were as innocent as that one lame boy Who for Christmas received the soldier toy, And in place of killing, other men would stop instead, think, and say then: "Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men." |