We go to church on Christmas Day, Mary and I, sedately, My sweetheart softly gowned in gray With quiet step and stately; She will not smile at what I say -- Her lashes veil her cheek -- What saint devout e'er knelt to pray With face more calm and meek? I would not dare to touch her hand, Of very smiles I'm chary; Some things no man may understand, But this is -- this is Mary. We go to Martin's Christmas night, Molly and I, for dinner; Whose smile so quick, whose eyes so bright As those of my sweet sinner? We chat, we laugh, we toast, we quite Lose sight of the hereafter, I -- and my darling heart's delight Aglow with fun and laughter. Beneath the cloth I press her hand, My chum, so sweet and jolly; Some things no man may understand, But this is -- this is Molly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THRENODY FOR A BROWN GIRL by COUNTEE CULLEN PAST AND PRESENT by THOMAS HOOD THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 79. THE MONOCHORD by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SOMETIME by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 22 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE SOBBING OF THE BELLS (MIDNIGHT, SEPT. 19-20, 1881) by WALT WHITMAN |