As the dullest can easily understand;
And then, of the end to come, who knows,
Save the village bells, and the welcome priest,
And the sister-maidens, with cheeks like the rose,
Who assist at the bridal feast?
Methinks, if the shamrock green
Is the leaf so dear to an Irish heart,
To the mistletoe-berry’s silver sheen
England’s love has been owing no minor part;
And greenly its stiff-set leaves have twined