The Cheerful days of Spring are fine,
When sunshine decks the hours,
And blithesome summer, when we twine
Wreaths of the fairest flowers;
But oh! tho' bright the days of Spring,
And Summer's flowrets gay,
There's none that half the pleasure brings
Of Merry Christmas Day!

'Tis then from house to house we roam
To sing, as we do now,
And on the mantlepiece at home
We place the holly bough;
And fires ne'er seem to burn so bright,
Nor hearts to be so gay,
Nor feet to tread the ground so light,
As seen on Christmas Day!

But cold and selfish should we be,
And heartless did we fail
To wish that you as well as we,
May merry be and hale!
May he whose love has ever blest
The righteous with its ray,
Grand you all good -- and midst the rest
A merry Christmas Day!

Anonymous