Song of the Giver

First there's the joy of choosing. Now then, what shall it
be? -- Useful? Pretty? Amusing? Love chooses thoughtfully. Then
there's the joy of paper, green leaves with berries red; a card with
a Christmas taper, tied with a golden thread. Then there's the joy
of tying (not string of the common kind! ) ribbons that we've been
buying that glitter as they unwind. Then there's the joy of
weighing, addressing the label, too; and, of course, there's the joy
of saying, "With love from me, to you! " But nought like the joy of
dreaming how happy that someone will be; how eyes will be brightly
gleaming and mouth smile happily. Joy past the power of rhyming to
follow that parcel in thought; to hear, with gay laughter chiming,
"Look what the postman has brought! "