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The Philanthropist's Christmas
JAMES WEBER LINN "DID you see this committee yeste...

Hymn On The Nativity
JOHN MILTON It was the winter wild, Whi...

Christmas Dreams
CHRISTOPHER NORTH To-morrow is Merry Christmas; and ...

A Christmas Song
TUDOR JENKS When mother-love makes all thing...

Christmas Waits In Boston
I. I always give myself a Christmas present. And o...

Why The Chimes Rang
RAYMOND MC ALDEN THERE was once in a faraway count...

The Angels
WILLIAM DRUMMOND Run, shepherds, run where B...





The Christmas Holly






ELIZA COOK

The holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay--
Come give the holly a song;
For it helps to drive stern winter away,
With his garment so sombre and long;

It peeps through the trees with its berries of red,
And its leaves of burnished green,
When the flowers and fruits have long been dead,
And not even the daisy is seen.
Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly,
That hangs over peasant and king;
While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glittering boughs,
To the Christmas holly we'll sing.

The gale may whistle, the frost may come
To fetter the gurgling rill;
The woods may be bare, and warblers dumb,
But holly is beautiful still.
In the revel and light of princely halls
The bright holly branch is found;
And its shadow falls on the lowliest walls,
While the brimming horn goes round.

The ivy lives long, but its home must be
Where graves and ruins are spread;
There's beauty about the cypress tree,
But it flourishes near the dead;
The laurel the warrior's brow may wreathe,
But it tells of tears and blood;
I sing the holly, and who can breathe
Aught of that that is not good?

Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly,
That hangs over peasant and king;
While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glittering boughs,
To the Christmas holly we'll sing.





Next: To The Fir-tree

Previous: The Festival Of St Nicholas



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