And what does it miss that should remain?—
O Christmas time is a wonderful thing!
Christmas again! Christmas again!
There are bright green leaves on the holly tree,—
But withered leaves fly over the plain,
And the forests are brown and bare to see.
Christmas again! Christmas again!
The snow lies light and the wind is cold.
But the wind it reacheth some hearts of pain,—
And the snow—it falleth on heads grown old.