“Whene'er I find a man who don't / Believe in Santa Claus, / and 'spite of all remonstrance won't / Yield up to logic's laws, / and see in things that lie about / The proof by no means dim, / I straightaway cut that fellow out, / and don't believe in him.
“The good old Saint is everywhere / along life's busy way. / We find him in the very air / we breathe day after day— / Where courtesy and kindliness / and love are joined together / To give sorrow and distress / A touch of sunny weather.
“We find him in the maiden's eyes / Beneath the mistletoe, / A-sparkling as the star-lit skies / All golden in their glow. / We find him in the pressure of the hand of sympathy, / and where there's any thought of love / He's mighty sure to be.”
-John Kendrick Bangs, “A Toast to Santa Claus”