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Image from page 248 of "St. Nicholas [serial]" (1873)

Image from page 248 of
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Identifier: stnicholasserial251dodg
Title: St. Nicholas [serial]
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: [New York : Scribner & Co.]
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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Text Appearing Before Image:
ABOUSCKA sits be-fore the fire,Upon a wintersnight.The driving windsheap up thesnow,Her hut is snugand tight;The howling winds, they only makeBabousckas fire more bright! hears a knocking at the door, late — who can it be ?hastes to lift the wooden latch thought of fear has she);wind-blown candle in her handines out on strangers three. Their beards are white with age, and snow That in the darkness flies;Their floating locks are long and white, But kindly are the eyesThat sparkle underneath their brows, Like stars in frosty skies. : Babouscka, we have come from far; We tarry but to say,A little Prince is born this night Who all the world shall sway.Come join the search; come, go with us Who go these gifts to pay. Babouscka shivers at the door: I would I might beholdThe little Prince who shall be King;But ah, the night is cold,

Text Appearing After Image:
-33 234 BABOUSCKA. [Jan. The wind so fierce, the snow so deep,And I, good sirs, am old ! The strangers three, no word they speak,But fade in snowy space. . . . Babouscka sits before the fire, And looks with wistful face :: I wish that I had questioned them,So I the way might trace! : When morning comes, with blessed light, I 11 early be awake.My staff in hand, I 11 go — perchance, Those strangers overtake.And for the Child, some little toys I 11 carry for his sake. The morning came, and, staff in hand,She wandered in the snow; And asked the way of all she met,But none the way could show. It must be farther yet, she sighed; Then farther will I go. And still, t is said, on Christmas eve,When high the drifts are piled, With staff, and basket on her arm,Babouscka seeks the Child. At every door her face is seen —Her wistful face and mild ! At every door her gifts she leaves, And bends, and murmurs low,Above each little face half hidBy pillows white as snow: And is He here ? — then so

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Date: 2014-07-30 13:35:44

bookid:stnicholasserial251dodg bookyear:1873 bookdecade:1870 bookcentury:1800 bookauthor:Dodge__Mary_Mapes__1830_1905 booksubject:Children_s_literature bookpublisher:_New_York___Scribner___Co__ bookcontributor:Information_and_Library_Science_Library__University_of_North_Carolina_at_Chapel_Hill booksponsor:University_of_North_Carolina_at_Chapel_Hill bookleafnumber:248 bookcollection:juvenilehistoricalcollection bookcollection:unclibraries bookcollection:americana

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