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“ Brothers and sisters, we 

Once frolicked, hand in hand, 
Around one sparkling tree ; 
But here, in this strange land, 
No one remembers me. 
“ Now all the doors they close 
| Against the cold and me; 
In all there gloomy rows 
Of houses, can there be 
No spot for my repose ? 




“ Will no one ope to me? 
— 
Naught will I touch or take; 
| 
reel I'll only look and see 
bal The pretty Christmas cake,— 
The sight my feast shall be.” 
He knocks at gate and door, 
On shutter and on pane; 
Within they laugh the more; 
The poor child knocks in vain, 

His little joints grow sore. 
il 
Hach father full of joy, 
His children eyes with pride; 
The mother hands the toy, 

She thinks of naught beside ; 
| ti | None heeds the stranger-boy. 
Vaan en 
bec eS 
Wy Ast 

