Robert Southey

Cold is thy hopeless heart, even as charity.

Cold is thy hopeless heart, even as charity.

O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
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O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves
Ordered by an Intelligence so wise
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.

Midnight, and yet no eye
Through all the Imperial City closed in sleep.

Midnight, and yet no eye
Through all the Imperial City closed in sleep.

And as, when all the summer trees are seen
So bright and green,
The Holly leaves a read more

And as, when all the summer trees are seen
So bright and green,
The Holly leaves a sober hue display
Less bright than they,
But when the bare and wintry woods we see,
What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree?

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky
Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray,
Each read more

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky
Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray,
Each in the south melting.