The poem is called Touch Hands.
“Ah friends, dear friends, as years go by, and heads grow gray. How fast the guests do go.
Touch hands, touch hands with those that stay.
Strong hands to the 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 stands.
Forget! Forgive. For who may say that Christmas Day may ever come to host or guest again? Touch hands.”
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