ON GOING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
            by Edgar A. Guest

            He little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant
            chair;
            He never guessed they'd miss him, or he'd
            surely have been there;
            He couldn't see his mother or the lump that
            filled her throat,
            Or the tears that started falling as she read
            his hasty note;
            And he couldn't see his father, sitting sor-
            rowful and dumb,
            Or he never would have written that he thought
            he couldn't come.

            He little knew the gladness that his presence
            would have made,
            And the joy it would have given, or he never
            would have stayed.
            He didn't know how hungry had the little
            mother grown
            Once again to see her baby and to claim him
            for her own.
            He didn't guess the meaning of his visit
            Christmas Day
            Or he never would have written that he
            couldn't get away.

            He couldn't see the fading of the cheeks that
            once were pink,
            And the silver in the tresses; and he didn't
            stop to think
            How the years are passing swiftly, and next
            Christmas it might be
            There would be no home to visit and no mother
            dear to see.
            He didn't think about it -- I'll not say he didn't
            care.
            He was heedless and forgetful or he'd surely
            have been there.

            Are you going home for Christmas? Have you
            written you'll be there?
            Going home to kiss the mother and to show
            her that you care?
            Going home to greet the father in a way to
            make him glad?
            If you're not I hope there'll never come a time
            you'll wish you had.
            Just sit down and write a letter -- it will make
            their heart strings hum
            With a tune of perfect gladness -- if you'll tell
            them that you'll come.

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