[Holly and Ivy.]

(Noël is the French word for Christmas.)
Holly standeth in ye house
When that Noël draweth near;
Evermore at ye door
Standeth Ivy, shivering sore,
In ye night wind bleak and drear.
"Sister Holly," Ivy quoth,
"What is that within you see?
To and fro doth ye glow
Of ye yule-log flickering go;
Would its warmth did cherish me!
Where thou bidest is it warm;
I am shaken of ye storm."
"Sister Ivy," Holly quoth,
"Brightly burns the yule-log here,
And love brings beauteous things,
While a guardian angel sings
To the babes that slumber near;
But, O Ivy! tell me now,
What without there seest thou?"
"Sister Holly," Ivy quoth,
"With fair music comes ye Morn,
And afar burns ye Star
Where ye wondering shepherds are,
And the Shepherd King is born:
'Peace on earth, good will to men,'
Angels cry, and cry again."
Holly standeth in ye house
When that Noël draweth near;
Clambering o'er yonder door,
Ivy standeth evermore;
And to them that rightly hear,
Each one speaketh of ye love
That outpoureth from Above.

—Eugene Field.

[Holiday Chimes.]

(When it is impossible to prepare a regular Christmas program for the friends of the pupils to enjoy with the school, the entrance to holiday week may be signalled by the impromptu reading and recitation of Christmas sentiments.)
CHRISTMAS DAY. Feathery flakes are falling, falling
From the skies in softest way,
And between are voices calling,
"Soon it will be Christmas day!"
—Mary B. Dodge.
OLD DECEMBER. With snowy locks December stands
'Mid sleet and storm; his wasted hands
A frosty scepter grasp and hold;
His frame is bent, his limbs are old;
His bearded lips are iced and pale;
He shivers in the winter gale.
Come then, O day of warm heart-cheer,
Make glad the waste and waning year,
While old December shivering goes
To rest beneath the drifted snows!
—Benj. F. Leggett.
CHRISTMAS-TIDE. O happy chime,
O blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
"Welcome, dear day,"
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide has come.
—L.M. Alcott
CHRISTMAS EVE. The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The Christmas bells from hill to hill
Answer each other in the mist.
Rise, happy morn! rise, holy morn!
Draw forth the cheerful day from night:
O Father! touch the east, and light
The light that shone when hope was born.
—Alfred Tennyson
FATHER CHRISTMAS. Here comes old Father Christmas,
With sound of fife and drums,
With misteltoe about his brows,
So merrily he comes!
Hurrah for Father Christmas!
Ring all the merry bells!
And bring the grandsires all around
To hear the tale he tells.
—Rose Terry Cooke
CHRISTMAS IN ENGLAND. Well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had rolled,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all his hospitable train.
* * * * * *
England was merry England when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
'Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale;
'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale,
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man's heart through half the year.
—Sir Walter Scott.
MUSIC OF CHRISTMAS. What do the angels sing?
What is the word they bring?
What is the music of Christmas again?
Glad tidings still to thee,
Peace and good will to thee
Glory to God in the highest!
—F.R. Havergal.
A CHRISTMAS WISH. A bright and blessed Christmas Day,
With echoes of the angels' song,
And peace that cannot pass away,
And holy gladness, calm and strong,
And sweetheart carols, flowing free!
This is my Christmas wish to thee.
—F.R. Havergal.
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS. Where love takes, let love give, and so doubt not:
Love counts but the will,
And the heart has its flowers of devotion
No winter can chill;
They who cared for "good will" that first Christmas
Will care for it still.
—A.A. Procter.
ONCE A YEAR. At Christmas play and make good cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year.
—Tusser.
OLD ENGLISH SONG. When Rosemary and Bays, the poet's crown,
Are bawled in frequent cries through all the town,
Then judge the festival of Christmas near,—
Christmas, the joyous period of the year!
Now with bright holly all the temples are strow;
With Laurel green and sacred Mistletoe.
OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS. Old Father Christmas is passing by,
His cheeks are ruddy, he's bright of eye;
His beard is white with the snows of time.
His brow is hoary with frost and rime.
It's little he cares for the frost and the cold,
For old Father Christmas he never grows old.
EVERGREEN AND HOLLY. Bring the evergreens and holly,
Bring the music and the song,
Chase away the melancholy,
By the pleasures bright, and jolly,
Which to Christmas time belong.
—E.O. Peck