Christmas Greens.

Oh, Lowbury pastor is fair and young,                 By far too good for a single life,             And many a maiden, saith gossip's tongue,                 Would fain be Lowbury pastor's wife:             So his book-marks are 'broidered in crimson and gold,             And his slippers are, really, a "sight to behold."             That's Lowbury pastor, sitting there                 On the cedar boughs by the chancel rails;             His face is clouded with carking care,                 For it's nearly five, the daylight fails             The church is silent, the girls all gone,             And the Christmas wreaths not nearly done.             Two tiny boots crunch-crunch the snow,                 They saucily stamp at the transept door,             And then up to the pillared aisle they go                 Pit-pat, click-clack, on the marble floor             A lady fair doth that pastor see,             And he saith, "Oh, bother, it isn't she!"             A lady in seal-skin eyes of blue,                 And tangled tresses of snow-flecked gold             She speaks, "Good gracious! can this be you,                 Sitting alone in the dark and cold?             The rest all gone! Why it wasn't right;             These texts will never be done to-night."             She sits her down at her pastor's feet,                 And, wreathing evergreen, weaves her wiles,             Heart-piercing glances bright and fleet,                 Soft little sighs, and shy little smiles;             But the pastor is solemnly sulky and glum,             And thinketh it strange that "she" doesn't come.             Then she tells him earnestly, soft and low,                 How she'd do her part in this world of strife,             And humbly look to him to know                 The path that her feet should tread through life             Her pastor yawneth behind his hat,             And wondereth what she is driving at.             Crunch-crunch again on the snow outside,                 The pastor riseth unto his feet,             The vestry door is opened wide,                 A dark-eyed maid doth the pastor greet,             And that lady fair can see and hear,             Her pastor kiss her, and call her "dear."             "Why, Maud!" "Why, Nelly!" those damsels cry;                 But lo, what troubles that lady fair?             On Nelly's finger there meets her eye                 The glow of a diamond solitaire,             And she thinks, as she sees the glittering ring,             "And so she's got him the hateful thing!"             There sit they all 'neath the Christmas tree,                 For Maud is determined that she wont go             The pastor is cross as a man can be,                 And Nelly would like to pinch her so,             And they go on wreathing the text again             It is "Peace on earth and good-will towards men."