The Christmas Gift by Celia Thaxter

O you dear little dog, all eyes and fluff!

How can I ever love you enough?

How was it, I wonder, that any one knew

I wanted a little dog, just like you?

With your jet black nose, and each sharp-cut ear,

And the tail you wag—O you are so dear!

Did you come trotting through all the snow

To find my door, I should like to know?

Or did you ride with the fairy team

Of Santa Claus, of which children dream,

Tucked all up in the furs so warm,

Driving like mad over village and farm,

O'er the country drear, o'er the city towers,

Until you stopped at this house of ours?

Did you think 'twas a little girl like me

You were coming so fast thro' the snow to see?

Well, whatever way you happened here,

You are my pet and my treasure dear—

Such a Christmas present! O such a joy!

Better than any kind of a toy!

Something that eats and drinks and walks,

And looks so lovely and almost talks;

With a face so comical and wise,

And such a pair of bright brown eyes!

I'll tell you something: The other day

I heard papa to my mamma say

Very softly, "I really fear

Our baby may be quite spoiled, my dear,

We've made of our darling such a pet,

I think the little one may forget

There's any creature beneath the sun

Beside herself to waste thought upon."

I'm going to show him what I can do

For a dumb little helpless thing like you.

I'll not be selfish and slight you, dear;

Whenever I can I shall keep you near.