In the Holidays - A poem by William Allen White

In the Holidays.

'Tis chilly when returns come in,
And you have done your part
To find out the majority
Gave you the marble heart.

'Tis chilly when you woo a girl
To have a rival when,
And get invited finally
To see her marry him.

But, ah, the coldest thing of all
Is this chill month, no doubt,
Is to be told at 5 a. m.
"The fires are out!"

^__William Allen White.