Life, 1923-12-06 · page 21 of 84
Life — December 6, 1923 — page 21: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is not a political cartoon but rather a sentimental poem about Christmas wonder, illustrated with decorative silhouettes. The text celebrates how toy-shop windows mesmerize rowdy children into silent awe—a "magic" more powerful than witches' spells or schoolmaster discipline. The poem contrasts the commercialism of toy-sellers ("shops that hate wide heaven and the moon") with childhood's capacity for enchantment. It evokes period-authentic toys: lead soldiers, mechanical drums, wind-up trains with cotton-smoke, Noah's Ark sets, and dolls. The central illustration shows children pressed against a shop window labeled "TOYS," gazing at displayed merchandise. The decorative border features toy soldiers, gingerbread houses, Christmas trees, and miniature scenes—visualizing the fantasy worlds the poem describes. Rather than satire, this is nostalgic Americana celebrating innocent childhood wonder during the Christmas season.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ie > _] # Christmas Magic ‘OW is the time when rowdy little boys, Who at all other seasons revel in vile noise, Are suddenly struck dumb Before some toyman’s window where The ferocious general (in lead) Rides a-cock-horse, And the mechanic antic whams his painted drum With rigid military stare. Not broom-horsed witches ever cast a spell, Nor surly master, with his ready cane, So strong as holds these elbows on the window-sill And small red noses to the window pane. And see! Is that a train That belches cotton smoke back from its funnel: That stops—and then comes back— Holy St. Nicholas! Is that a tunnel? No, this is not a window on a city strect; This is a glass that gives a fairy-land, Through which a flock of dreams may pass To utter carols About the youth-charmed threshold of young ears, Mummers of fantasy, from lands Where men of ginger-bread shed raisin tears, Where dollies dance in smallest buckle shoes And painted Noah with his wooden sons Receives his cracker passengers by twos. Now is the gentlest time of times, When stories are retold, When revelers startle at the best saint's chimes, And on the snow-damped roofs. Small sleepy ears hear little reindeer hoofs, While young mites shiver—not with cold This is God's birthday when the worst coin buys, In shops that hate wide heaven and the moon, Starlight for children’s eyes. Hervey Allen comicbooks.com