Christmas Holly

Bethink we what can mean
The holly's changeless green,
Unyielding leaves, and seeds blood-red:
These, while the smoke below
Curls slowly upward, show
Faith how her gentle Master bled.
Those drop not at the touch
Of busy over-much,
They shrink not at the blazing grate;
And the same green remains,
As when autumnal rains
Nurst them with milky warmth of late.
The stedfast bough scarce bends,
But hang it over friends
And suddenly what thoughts there spring!
Harsh voices all grow dumb,
While myriad pleasures come
Beneath Love's ever- widening wing.