• 'Tis darkest night of Christmas eve,
    The cold, hard snow at my feet,
    Along the alleyway of defeat.
    In one corner I see a boy,
    Dressed in dreariest rags.
    The dismal, cruel, yet perfect snow falls-
    Upon his face.

    His complexion white, his cheeks red,
    The darkest hair on his head.
    Equally dark lashes flutter,
    Blue eyes appear.
    The hard sight of poverty,
    Bears upon this sight.
    And yet the true richness of life seems to appear,
    Along with purple lips.

    Those frost bound lips move,
    Shaping themselves into the smile,
    The smile envied by angels above,
    That smile that soon formed the words-
    "Merry Christmas!"