Sweet Holly, Pine and Mistletoe,
Your charms I here compare;
Though Yuletide guardians of frosted snow,
‘Tis my love who’s Goddess there.
Holly berry, scarlet as shame; Who -
To her Poppy red lips, I must dismiss,
And though your sweetness doth enflame,
No bloom is sweeter than her kiss.
Pine, you’re fresh as breeze from sea, Yet –
Her perfume yields more joy;
Mistletoe, you embrace the tree, Whilst –
‘Tis with me her arms do toy.
See how the Yule has no finer place
Than my loves heart, her charm, her grace.
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