Page:Our American Holidays - Christmas.djvu/152

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.

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