The ivy lives long, but its home must be Where graves and ruins are spread; There's beauty about the cypress tree, But it flourishes near the dead; The laurel the warrior's brow may wreathe, But it tells of tears and blood; I sing the holly, and who can breathe Aught of that that is not good? Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, That hangs over peasant and king; While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glittering boughs, To the Christmas holly we'll sing. * * * * * TO THE FIR-TREE FROM THE GERMAN O Fir-tree green! O Fir-tree green! Your leaves are constant ever, Not only in the summer time, But through the winter's snow and rime You're fresh and green forever. O Fir-tree green! O Fir-tree green! I still shall love you dearly! How oft to me on Christmas night Your laden boughs have brought delight. O Fir-tree green! O Fir-tree green! I still shall love you dearly. * * * * * THE MAHOGANY-TREE WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY Christmas is here; Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we; Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany-Tree. Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang in its bloom; Night-birds are we; Here we carouse, Singing, like them, Perched round the stem Of the jolly old tree. Here let us sport, Boys, as we sit-- Laughter and wit Flashing so free. Life is but short-- When we are gone, Let them sing on, Round the old tree. Evenings we knew, Happy as this; Faces we miss, Pleasant to see. Kind hearts and true, Gentle and just, Peace to your dust! We sing round the tree. Care like a dun, Lurks at the gate; Let the dog wait; Happy we'll be! Drink, every one; Pile up the coals; Fill the red bowls, Round the old tree! Drain we the cup.-- Friend, art afraid? Spirits are laid In the Red Sea. Mantle it up; Empty it yet; Let us forget, Round the old tree! Sorrows begone! Life and its ills, Duns and their bills, Bid we to flee. Come with the dawn, Blue-devil sprite; Leave us to-night, Round the old tree! * * * * * CHRISTMAS WASHINGTON IRVING But is old, old, good old Christmas gone? Nothing but the hair on his good, gray, old head and beard left? Well, I will have that, seeing I cannot have more of him. Hue and Cry after Christmas.