Still the festal token?
Must their realm of young romance
All be marred and broken?
Must the mother promise on,
While her smiles dissemble,
And she speaks right quietly,
Lest her voice should tremble:--

"Darlings! wait till father comes--
Wait--and we'll discover
Never were such Christmas times,
When the war is over!"


II.

Underneath the midnight sky,
Bright with starry beauty,
Sad, the shivering sentinel
Treads his round of duty:
For his thoughts are far away,
Far from strife and battle,
As he listens dreamingly,
To his baby's prattle;--
As he clasps his sobbing wife,
Wild with sudden gladness,
Kisses all her tears away--
Chides her looks of sadness--
Talks of Christmas nights to come,--
And his step grows lighter,