These decorated bits of paper tell so much,
As the old and lonely know,
Unwishing to be seen as such.
How each is hoped for, looked for, prized, and put on show,
Their envelopes even kept
When other things are swept
Away, away, Oh, far away.
And from the inky messages of cheerfulness
And at a strange address
Someone who cares for them is seen like Christ to bless
The whole day long
With expanding happiness.
This is why death is very hard for them to bear,
If it is not their own,
Meaning a missing card among
The few they stare
At when alone.
They might, perhaps, despair,
If they did not look forward to parties up there,
When those who wrote to them will be
More shining than a Christmas tree.