Till the smooth temper of my age should be And as when all the summer trees are seen The holly leaves a sombre hue display, Less bright than they; But when the bare and wintry woods we see, So serious should my youth appear among So would I seem amid the young and gay More grave than they, That in my age as cheerful I might be green winter of the holly tree. As the UNDER THE HOLLY BOUGH. (CHARLES MACKAY.) YE who have scorned each other, Or injured friend or brother, Ye who, by word or deed, Have made a kind heart bleed, Come gather here. Let sinned against, and sinning, And join in friendship now: Under the Holly Bough. THE HOLLY BERRY. Ye who have loved each other, In this fast fading year: Young man and maiden mild, Come gather here; And let your hearts grow fonder, Each past unbroken vow. Under the Holly Bough. Ye who have nourished sadness, Ye, with o'erburdened mind, Come gather here. Let not the useless sorrow Pursue you night and morrow. If e'er you hoped, hope nowTake heart-uncloud your faces, And join in our embraces, Under the Holly Bough. THE HOLLY BERRY. (THOMAS MILLER.) GONE are the summer hours, The birds have left their bowers; While the holly true retains his huc, Nor changes like the flowers. The berries tinged like roses; While grim old Winter dozes. hen drink to the holly berry, Above all cold affections, Like pleasant recollections. While the falling shrine it doth entwine We read in ancient story, How the Druids in their glory Marched forth of old, with hooks of gold, To forests dim and hoary; The giant oak ascended, Then from its branches rended The mistletoe, long long ago, By maidens fair attended. Then drink, &c. Each thorpe and grange surrounding, The waits to music bounding, Aroused the cook, that her fire might smoke Ere the early cock was sounding. THE CHRISTMAS HOLLY. For all the land was merry, And rang with "Hey down derry," 1 THE CHRISTMAS HOLLY. (ELIZA COOK.) THE holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay- For it helps to drive stern winter away, With his garment so sombre and long; When the flowers and fruits have long been dead, Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, That hangs over peasant and king; While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glitt'ring boughs, The gale may whistle, the frost may come The woods may be bare, and warblers dumb, 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. Then drink to the holly, &c. The ivy lives long, but its home must be I sing the holly, and who can breathe Then sing to the holly, &c. THE MISTLETOE. (From "Fraser's Magazine," 1835.` Of all the nights within the year, That's the night to lovers dear, Oh, oh, the mistletoe! When blushing lips, that smile at folly, Kiss, and banish melancholy. Oh, oh, the mistletoe! Ice was glittering on the farm, Oh, oh, the mistletoe! Woman's heart was beating warm, Oh, oh, the mistletoe! And woman's eyes, when frost is near, And chilly drooping snows appear, Can make the sunny time of Oh, oh, the mistletoe! Roger Rood the fiddle played, Oh, oh, the mistletoe! year. |