Hi, A few have asked me for the poem I read at today's luncheon. It is by William Henry Harrison Murray. Ah, friends, dear friends, as year go on and heads get gray, how fast the guests do go. Touch hands, touch hands with those that stay. Strong hands to weak, old hands to young around the Christmas board, touch hands. The false forget, the foe forgive, for every guest will go and every fire burn low and cabin empty stand. Forget, forgive, for who may say that Christmas day may ever come to host or guest again. Touch hands. Ed
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