Church-Decking At Christmas
Words: William Wordsworth
Source: Henry Vizetelly, Christmas With The Poets (London: David Bogue, 1851).
Would that our scrupulous sires had dared to leave Less scanty measure of those graceful rites And usages, whose due return invitesA stir of mind too natural to deceive;Giving the memory help when she could weave A crown for Hope!—I dread the boasted lights That all too often are but fiery blights,Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve.Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring, The counter Spirit found in some gay church Green with fresh holly, every pew a perchIn which the linnet or the thrush might sing, Merry and loud, and safe from prying search,Strains offered only to the genial spring.
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