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A Christmas Poem

thcri

Gone But Not Forgotten
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
'SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY! COUNTRY, MY CORPS.'

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CON TINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, 'CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE.'

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
'MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,!
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.'

This poem was written by a Marine.
 

muleman

Gone But Not Forgotten
GOLD Site Supporter
Excellent post! Far too many take for granted the sacrifices of our soldiers.:flagusa:
 

Danang Sailor

nullius in verba
GOLD Site Supporter
Lance Corporal James Schmidt wrote this in 1986 when he was stationed at the Marine Barracks in DC. It has been modified
to make it more generic (ie, less Marine-specific). For those who might be interested, here is the original version:

Merry Christmas, My Friend

By James M. Schmidt, a Marine Lance Corporal

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.



I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live.



As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.



No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.



With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.



For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.



I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.



And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.



He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.



Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?



His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.



For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.



Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.



They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.



I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.



Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.



He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice.



I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps."



With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.



I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.



So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.



Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.



And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.



I didn't want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.



But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day, all secure."



One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.




Rumor has it that Corporal Schmidt left the Corps, earned a law degree, and serves as the attorney for a security group
in Los Angeles.
 
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