One Santa Claus

I met Santa Claus, and shook hands with him! Yes, really I did, though you'd never think it true;— When I looked up and saw him, everything went dim, 'Till he called, "Hello Goldilocks! I'm watching for you!"

It was down in a shop—just a great, great big shop, With such a noise and rushing that no one could think;— And then in some fairy way the noise seemed to stop, For suddenly, he was there—so red, and white, and pink!

There were toys all around him;—but what I could see Was only himself, as he stooped and took my hand, And said, "Little girl, you look mighty sweet to me;— What do you want for Christmas? A doll-house—or a band?"

"A little silver thimble, or paints in a box? A pretty fur tippet, or a stove to bake pies?" Then he laughed in the gladdest way, and shook his white locks— And it's queer—for I thought he had such tired eyes.