Explore "When Christmas Comes" by Virna Sheard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For thee, my small one -- trinkets and new toys, / The wine of life and all its keenest joys, / When Christmas comes. / For me, the broken playthings of the past / That in my folded hands I still hold fast, / When Christmas comes.
For thee, fair hopes of all that yet may be, / And tender dreams of sweetest mystery, / When Christmas comes. / For thee, the future in a golden haze, / For me, the memory of some bygone days, / When Christmas comes.