Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905 · [New York : Scribner & Co.] · leaf 222
t alone,— And if you d beenAmong the bushes, where he could nt see,You would have heard him say in mournful tone: Oh, dear!Why is it Christmas comes but once a year?Now, look at Sundays,—there s no end to them,— I dont know who s to blame,—They keep a-coming every little while; —I ^ot my… … HE SAT HIM DOWN TO MEDITATE. Yes ! Sunday every day or two. But Christmases,—My ! aint they few ! Here I ve been waiting, And calculating What I would doNext Christmas-time; and now I ve foundIts three months fore it comes around ! Three months !—oh, dear !—Why dont they have it more than once a…
Children's literature
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