The redbreast, sacred to the household gods, Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is : LUDWIG HOLTY, 1748-1776. HOLLY SONG. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly; This life is most jolly! Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot; Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly; Then, heigh ho! the holly! SHAKSPEARE. AN OLD-FASHIONED HOLLY HEDGE. Is there under heaven a more glorious and refreshing object of the kind than an impassable hedge of about four hundred feet in length, nine feet high, and five feet in diameter, which I can show in my gardens at Say's Court, at any time of the year, glittering with its armed and varnished leaves, the taller standards at orderly distances blushing with their natural coral-shorn and fashioned into columns and pilasters, architecturally shaped, at due distance? EVELYN'S "Silva.” CHRISTMAS CAROL. HOLLY AND IVY. 1. Holly and Ivy made a great party, In lands where they go. Then spake Holly, "I am fierce and jolly, I will have the mastery In lands where we go!" Then spake Ivy, "I am loud and proud, In lands where we go!" Then spake Holly, and bent down on his knee, II. Nay, Ivy, nay, it shall not be, I wis, Let Holly have the mastery, as the manner is. Holly standeth in the hall fair to behold; Ivy stands without the door, she is full sore a cold. Nay, Ivy, nay, etc., etc. Holly and his merry men, they dance now and they sing; Nay, Ivy, nay, etc., etc. Ivy hath a lyke,* she caught it with the cold, Holly he hath berries as red as any rose, The foresters, the hunters, keep them for the does. Nay, Ivy, nay, etc., etc. Ivy she hath berries as black as any sloe, There come the owls and eat them as they goe. Nay, Ivy, nay, etc., etc. Holly he hath birds, a full, fair flock, The nightingale, the popinjay, the gentle laverock. Good Ivy say to us what bird hath thou; Dating in the 14th century. THE SEASONS. A blue-eyed child that sits amid the noon, All beauty that is throned in womanhood, * Unexplained in any glossary. That stoops to smooth a glossy spaniel down, A happy mother with her fair-faced girls, In whose sweet Spring again her youth she sees, An aged woman in a wintry room- Frost on the pane, without the whirling snow- Of sorrows past and joys of long ago. Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough; SHAKSPEARE. So in lone Poverty's dominion drear Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart, Welcomes the rapid movements, bids them part, Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear. I thank thee, Author of this opening day! Thou whose bright sun now gilds the Orient skies! Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys, What wealth could never give nor take away! Yet come, thou child of poverty and care; The mite high Heaven bestow'd, that mite with thee I'll share. ROBERT BURNS, 1750-1796. SONNET. Sheath'd is the river as it glideth by, ALEXANDER SMITIL SPRING AND WINTER. FROM THE FRENCH. Gentle Spring, in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! For Winter maketh the light heart sad, And thou-thou makest the sad heart gay. He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train, The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain; |