I shall never forget Cimabue's Madonna,
No, nor the niche close by in the wall,
Where, on the straw, the Bambino was lying,
While the oxen knelt in the stall.
Rude are the images, tinsel the flowers;
But a tear to the eye unconsciously starts,
Beholding the tribute the children have rendered,
In the votive gift of “hearts”!
Among them a little gold watch was hanging,
That told of some sick child's treasured wealth,
Sent with a prayer that his Christmas present
Might be the good gift of health!