When each tree’s snowed upon each limb,
when children lie sleeping waiting him,
when Lily Pond gives up owl’s quick hoot
and snow is crunching beneath my boot,
know I walk here and think now of you
who sometimes or not knew this view;
who by this pond and this water wide
may have walked about on either side;
who one summer may have lately cast
for bass or pickerel that quickly passed,
or whose shore-wide winds of December ilk
dared touch your cheek with a dash of silk;
or when plush leaves were turned to gold
as pure-flung autumn engaged its hold.
Be sure all seasons of our younger grace
walk beside me in this near-silent place,
know I think, while Christmas spreads
from angel’s top to children’s beds,
of all my friends whom I correspond
and wish their visits beside this pond.
Come to Lily Pond again, to Saugus town,
where Christmas once was tender known,
where we gather in childhood memories
this pond’s air, its smell and winter breeze,
where all our younger lives were spent
about the shores where curving went,
and on slickered ice we slickered flew
fair to the Turnpike and out of view.
Welcome Christmas back as it was then,
the songs we sang, the friends we’ve been,
the wishes springing full spent on air,
for you all the hopes the heart can bear.
Merry Christmas.