The Spirit of Christmas

Suppose an apparition — 
A specter of our dreams — 
Would give an exhibition
Of what our Christmas means.
So here’s the ghost of Christmas past
To show us what he’s brought:
The many gifts that did not last,
The presents we forgot;
The toys we couldn’t live without,
That we could ill-afford;
The trinkets that we whined about,
With which we grew quite bored.
 
But reaching deeper in his bag
He finds a little more — 
Yet these have neither box nor tag
Nor come from any store:
The joy within a child’s eyes,
The laughter in their heart;
The warmth of friends and family ties
That glows — though miles apart.
Still deeper in his bag he goes
To find God’s gift, His Son:
Sometimes misplaced, forgotten — though
It is the greatest one.