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Green, slender, leaf-clad holly boughs Were twisted gracefu' round her brows, I took her for some Scottish Muse, By that same token, An' come to stop those reckless vows, Would soon be broken.

Those holies of themselves a shape As of an arbor took.

All green was vanished save of pine and yew, That still displayed their melancholy hue; Save the green holly with its berries red, And the green moss that o'er the gravel spread.

And as, when all the summer trees are seen So bright and green, The Holly leaves a sober hue display Less bright than they, But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree?

O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see The Holly-tree? The eye that contemplates it well perceives Its glossy leaves Ordered by an Intelligence so wise As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.