Here you will find thePoemA Feel In The Chris'mas-Airof poet James Whitcomb Riley
They's a kind o' _feel_ in the air, to me. When the Chris'mas-times sets in. That's about as much of a mystery As ever I've run ag'in!-- Fer instunce, now, whilse I gain in weight And gineral health, I swear They's a _goneness_ somers I can't quite state-- A kind o' _feel_ in the air. They's a feel in the Chris'mas-air goes right To the spot where a man _lives_ at!-- It gives a feller a' appetite-- They ain't no doubt about _that_!-- And yit they's _somepin_'--I don't know what-- That follers me, here and there, And ha'nts and worries and spares me not-- A kind o' feel in the air! They's a _feel_, as I say, in the air that's jest As blame-don sad as sweet!-- In the same ra-sho as I feel the best And am spryest on my feet, They's allus a kind o' sort of a' _ache_ That I can't lo-cate no-where;-- But it comes with _Chris'mas_, and no mistake!-- A kind o' feel in the air. Is it the racket the childern raise?-- W'y, _no_!--God bless 'em!--_no_!-- Is it the eyes and the cheeks ablaze-- Like my _own_ wuz, long ago?-- Is it the bleat o' the whistle and beat O' the little toy-drum and blare O' the horn?--_No! no!_--it is jest the sweet-- The sad-sweet feel in the air.
