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About this poet

Libbie C. Baer was born in Ohio on November 18, 1849. She was the author of In the Land of Fancy and Other Poems (F. T. Neely, 1902). She died on February 27, 1929.

When Christmas Comes

                        (Harry.)
When Christmas comes my brother Fred
And I are each to have a sled,
So papa says. To all good boys
Old Santa brings both books and toys,
            When Christmas comes.

                        (Paul.)
I know my mother is too poor,
To buy us toys, but I am sure
She’ll have for us some nice warm caps,
Some mittens, and some shoes, perhaps,
            When Christmas comes.

                        (James.)
I wrote old Santa Claus to bring
To me a drum, and everything;
A train of cars to run by steam,
And all of which I think, and dream,
            When Christmas comes.

                        (Willie.)
You greedy boy! You want it all;
I only want a top and ball;
I want what Santa Claus can spare
When other boys have had their share,
            When Christmas comes.

                        (James.)
I only wrote old Santa Claus
To bring me all those things, because
I want to give away some toys,
To Paul, and other widows’ boys,
            When Christmas comes.

                        (John.)
That’s right, my chum,
With fife and drum,
And singing tops we’ll make things hum;
Divide our toys with other boys,
And won’t we make a sight of noise,
            When Christmas comes.

                        (All.)
When Christmas comes to you and me,
Bid every selfish thought to flee;
Unselfish hearts and deeds, and then,
“Peace on earth, good will to men,”
            When Christmas comes.

This poem was published in In the Land of Fancy and Other Poems (F. T. Neely, 1902). This poem is in the public domain.

This poem was published in In the Land of Fancy and Other Poems (F. T. Neely, 1902). This poem is in the public domain.

Libbie C. Baer

Libbie C. Baer was born in Ohio on November 18, 1849. She was the author of In the Land of Fancy and Other Poems (F. T. Neely, 1902). She died on February 27, 1929.

by this poet

poem

Papa and mama, and baby and Dot,
Willie and me—the whole of the lot
Of us all went over in Bimberlie’s sleigh,
To grandmama’s house on Christmas day.

Covered with robes on the soft cushioned seat,
With heads well wrapped up and hot bricks to our feet,
And two prancing horses, tho

poem

How sad, how glad,
   The Christmas morn!
Some say, “To-day
   Dear Christ was born,
        And hope and mirth
        Flood all the earth;
Who would be sad
   This Christmas morn.”

How glad, how sad,
   The Christmas morn!
“To-day,” some say
   Dear