Life, 1916-12-07 · page 18 of 94
Life — December 7, 1916 — page 18: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a sentimental poem by Arthur Guiterman, not political satire. The page features a Christmas-themed poem about the frustration of receiving a wrapped gift with instructions not to open it until Christmas Day. The poem explores the tension between desire and delayed gratification—the speaker has received a gift from their beloved but must wait to open it. Beyond the literal gift, Guiterman uses the sealed package as a metaphor for love and joy that are "locked fast" and withheld throughout the year. The philosophical argument builds across stanzas: the speaker questions whether Time permits them to survive until Christmas, whether waiting honors true love, and finally appeals to the "sages" who teach that joy should be seized in the present moment ("Now") rather than deferred. The decorative border features Christmas imagery (Santa, children, toys, wreaths) typical of early 20th-century holiday publications. This is simply festive, sentimental verse—not commentary or satire.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
i SANE Nia “Don't Open Till Xmas” Y Love hath sent a gift to me; But though that gift I long to see, The packet's label says me nay— “Don't open until Christmas Day.” Till Christmas Day—how long to wait And pine, yet hold inviolate The ban, too strict for Adam's clay, “Don't open until Christmas Day”! On Christmas Day shall I be here To joy in that which now were dear? And must I heed these runes that say, “Don't open until Christmas Day "? Should Time, the churl! have power to hold In check each word, each deed of gold, Through this decree of drear delay, “Don’t open until Christmas Day”? For there be hearts—and purses, too— Locked fast to Love the long year through By that same word, which fools obey, “Don't open until Christmas Day.” Ah, Love! the sages all allow The time for any joy is Now; Then charge me never more, I pray, “Don't open until Christmas Day"! Arthur Guiterman.