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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508955" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>White Christmas</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My folks think I'm a serving maid<br>Each time I visit home;<br>They do not dream I ply a trade<br>As old as Greece or Rome;<br>For if they found I'd fouled their name<br>And was not white as snow,<br>I'm sure that they would die of shame . . .<br>Please, God, they'll never know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I clean the paint from off my face,<br>In sober black I dress;<br>Of coquetry I leave no trace<br>To give them vague distress;<br>And though it causes me a pang<br>To play such sorry tricks,<br>About my neck I meekly hang<br>A silver crufix.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so with humble step I go<br>Just like a child again,<br>To greet their Christmas candle-glow,<br>A soul without a stain;<br>So well I play my contrite part<br>I make myself believe<br>There's not a stain within my heart<br>On Holy Christmas Eve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With double natures we are vext,<br>And what we feel, we are;<br>A saint one day, a sinner next,<br>A red light or a star;<br>A prostitute or proselyte,<br>And in each part sincere:<br>So I become a vestal white<br>One week in every year.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For this I say without demur<br>From out life's lurid lore,<br>Each righteous women has in her<br>A tincture of the whore;<br>While every harpy of the night,<br>As I have learned too well;<br>Holds in her heart a heaven-light<br>To ransom her from hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I'll go home and sweep and dust;<br>I'll make the kitchen fire,<br>And be a model of daughters just<br>The best they could desire;<br>I'll fondle them and cook their food,<br>And Mother dear will say:<br>&quot;Thank God! my darling is as good<br>As when she went away.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But after New Year's Day I'll fill<br>My bag and though they grieve,<br>I'll bid them both good-bye until<br>Another Christmas Eve;<br>And then . . . a knock upon the door:<br>I'll find them waiting there,<br>And angel-like I'll come once more<br>In answer to their prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Lo! one night when candle-light<br>Gleams mystic on the snow,<br>And music swells of Christmas bells,<br>I'll come, no more to go:<br>The old folks need my love and care,<br>Their gold shall gild my dross,<br>And evermore my breast shall bear<br>My little silver cross.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508955" data-title="White Christmas de Robert William Service" data-description="My folks think I'm a serving maid
Each time I visit home;
They do not dream I ply a trade
As old as Greece or Rome;
For if they found I'd fouled their name
And was not white as snow,
I'm sure that they would die of shame . . .
Please, God, they'll..."></div>
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