I did not know you well –
Not well as I should like.
So what have I to tell?
Perhaps I could recall
A Christmas long ago.
The only one, I think,
That seasoned was with snow.
I’m sure I was quite young,
Perhaps seven or eight,
And we played in the snow
’Till it was very late.
I other mem’ries have,
But this one was my choice,
In it I see your face,
And in it hear your voice.
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