< Littell's Living Age < Volume 128 < Issue 1654
For works with similar titles, see Christmas.

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CHRISTMAS.

Under green boughs our Christmas keeping,
Bright berries fall, loved ones are sleeping,
Dark shadows on our hearth come creeping;
Christ bids us smile, but we are weeping.

He bids us smile, because He soweth
Our berries where His soft wind bloweth.
He saith, "Each one a fair tree groweth;"
We doubt, we hope: but our God knoweth.

M. E. S.⁠
⁠Spectator.
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