BY ANNIE M. TOOHEY.
Through the old year's ashen fingers
Creeps a tender Christmas rose,
Full of mystic grace and sweetness,
Born amid the drifting snows,
With its tender leaves unfolding
Unto all a message true,
From the throbbing heart of nature,
Crown'd by wintry skies of blue.
And it bears us all a message,
Unto heart and unto soul,
Lifting us beyond the shadows
Life must bring ere cometh goal
Of another Christmas dawning,
In a garden far away,
Where but thornless flowers linger
Through an endless summer day.
Troy Times. December 24, 1912.