Wonderful boy of long ago!Come now and tell—As aged man, with beard of snowAnd hair all white, what gave thy name,Adown the years, the glow of fame?Explain thy spell
O'er countless children waiting theeIn varied home,—Afar inland, beside the sea,In lonely cot, and crowded town,—Awatching oft in midnight gown,For thee to come.
Wert thou a selfish, cunning boy?Ah no, ah no!Tradition findeth no alloyIn thy make-up, but giveth theeA generous heart, from baseness free,Alike the snow.
White out and in, a giver pure,With heart all warm,—This! is thy spell, direct and sure,O'er boy and girl; who think it goodTo paint thy face in comic mood—It does no harm.
But clothed in loving, reverent mienTradition gives—Thou art, in this, by seniors seen,To meet the life of one who wasThe mother of Saint Nicholas:In thee she lives.