By J. Sidlow Baxter

      The frost white hill still glistens,
      Beneath the moonlit skies,
      As on the night of Christmas,
      Untrod it sleeping lies.
      A newborn year is waiting,
      To meet the early dawn;
      And whisper this to all the world,
      Another Christmas gone.

      The holly berry changes,
      It's coat of emerald red;
      And wreaths we twin'd but lately,
      Hang, all their verdure dead.
      And round our lonely dwelling
      A loneliness is cast,
      Our holiday is over,
      And Christmas Day is past.

      But still our hearts look forward
      To many happy years,
      Unconscious of our future
      It's passing joys and tears:
      Our friends around may sooner
      Be laid within the clay,
      Some present never live to see
      Another Christmas Day.