Article

Christmas Eve on a Gettysburg Farm

Poem written below a black and white photograph of the Eisenhower home.
Frank Sohl's Christmas Eve poem for President Eisenhower, printed in the "Vidette Messenger" of Porter County, IN, December 23, 1957.

"Christmas Eve on a Gettysburg Farm": A poem by Frank Sohl, dedicated to President Dwight Eisenhower.

In December 1955, Frank R. Sohl, a printer from Garden City, Long Island, caught a moment of creativity. Perhaps inspired that festive season by Charles Dickens's famed work, "A Christmas Carol," Sohl wrote a poem in which he envisioned President Dwight Eisenhower being visited by three ghosts, or spirits, one Christmas Eve night while at his farm in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. The spirits, however, were not of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet-To-Come. They were, instead, the spirits of three men who had preceded Ike in the office of the President of the United States. (Can you predict which ones?)

Printing the poem on a specially made Christmas card of his own design, Sohl proudly sent a copy to President Eisenhower's attention in the White House. His friends scoffed at the idea, telling Sohl that Eisenhower likely received hundreds of such greetings and that he would probably never lay eyes upon it. One can imagine his surprise, then, when Sohl received a thank you card personally from President Eisenhower!

Ike passed the poem around to friends and family and soon his personal secretary reached out directly to Sohl, asking for twelve more copies, for Ike to deliver to those who had requested a copy of the Christmas-themed poem. Newspapers printed the story and word of the poem quickly spread. Soon Sohl's mailbox was inundated as thousands across the country requested copies of their own.

The poem was a big hit with Dwight Eisenhower, even though while president, he and his family spent their Christmases not at their Farm in Gettysburg, but in the White House instead. Even years later, Sohl’s poem continued to be published in newspapers across the country, including the article seen here, which was discovered some time ago by a housekeeper at the Eisenhower National Historic Site and today is a part of the site’s library collection.

Sohl's words and the three visiting spirits remind us of the burdens Eisenhower carried as President--the responsibility of maintaining peace during the tension of the Cold War, the weight of history and expecations, and Ike's desire for calm and rest. Today, they convey what so many feel this time of year--a desire for peace and a brighter future for us all.

For more on the Eisenhowers and their Christmas traditions, visit our new webpage discussing one of Ike and Mamie’s favorite holidays. This page includes a special virtual tour of the Eisenhower home decorated for the Christmas season.

"Christmas Eve on a Gettysburg Farm"
By Frank Sohl


The President's chores were quite over,
His gifts were arranged 'neath the tree,
And in his favorite robe and soft slippers,
From matters of State he was free.

In his favorite chair by the fire,
Slouched deep in each comforting arm,
With a sign of contentment he murmered:
"Our first Christmas Eve on the farm."

Outside, while a light snow was falling,
Lights in windows blinked out, one by one,
A signal that families were ready
To welcome the birth of God's son.

As the clock on the mantel struck midnight,
The lights in the study grew strange,
The president stared, as a figure,
Familiar to him, came in the range.

Bewigged and beruffled he stood there,
His hands raised in friendly command.
From out of the past--an immortal,
Father of our beloved land.

The President jumped to attention,
But Washington shook his white hair.
"Remember, we both rank the same, sir,"
He laughed and pulled up a chair.

"My visit, tonight, may surprise you,
But my soul couldn't rest 'till I say,
You could be the man who is destined
To plan a PEACE which will stay.

"When I lived I fathered an ideal
Of Government for good of all,
And I've tossed in my grave since my funeral
As Dictatorships crumble and fall."

"We both know the horrors of warfare
And the promise that Peace always brings,
If all parties can reach an agreement
Without faithless, entangling strings."

"I'll leave now, my mission is ended,
I just couldn't rest 'til you knew;
'Peace on Earth and Good Will' need a leader,
And God may have chosen you."

Just as he came, he vanished,
A mission so strange--yet so real.
In his place came a new apparition,
Tall, gaunt, and with a homespun appeal.

"Do you mind if I visit, Mr. President?"
He asked as he threw off his shawl,
"Since my speech here they've made many changes."
As he sat down he still seemed so tall.

"I've come for a special purpose,
And hope you will hear me through,
For you've captured the hearts of all nations,
Lasting Peace could depend on you.

"Ninety years have not changed my high purpose:
'Malice toward none... Charity for all.'
With God's help may you be most successful
In preventing World Atomic fall."

Mr. Lincoln then picked up his top hat
And carefully tucked in his shawl.
He disappeared into the shadows
As if walking straight through the wall.

The President stirred as if restless
And shifted 'round in his chair,
For a new and familiar vision
Was sharing the room with him there.

"Forgive this late hour, Mr. President,
And my unannounced call on you here.
But the prayers of all mankind are for you,
Counting on you has freed them of fear."

"That's why I came here this Christmas
To re-state my aims when alive:
That our Nation should serve all humanity,
And for Peace may we always strive."

"I hoped for a League of Nations,
But the World would not keep it alive.
Today your United Nations
Has a much better chance to survive."

"I failed, Congress wasn't united.
You can't lose... you've the World in your palm.
May God let you remain in the struggle
'Til each nation is safe from all harm."

With a hand on the President's shoulder,
Mr. Wilson prepared to depart,
As he disappeared into the shadows
... the President 'woke with a start.

"It's Merry Christmas, Mr. President
And it's time you were in your bed,"
Said his wife as she tenderly kissed him,
While he drowsily scratched at his head.

Part of a series of articles titled The Eisenhowers and Christmas.

Eisenhower National Historic Site

Last updated: October 10, 2023