The Ballade Of The Mistletoe Bough

I am standing under the mistletoe,     And I smile, but no answering smile replies     For her haughty glance bids me plainly know     That not for me is the thing I prize;     Instead, from her coldly scornful eyes,     Indifference looks on my barefaced guile;     She knows, of course, what my act implies,     But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile?     I stand here, eager, and beam and glow,     And she only looks a refined surprise     As clear and crisp and as cold as snow,     And as, Stop! I will never criticise!     I know what her cold glance signifies;     But Ill stand just here as I am awhile     Till a smile to my pleading look replies,     But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile?     Just look at those lips, now! I claim they show     A spirit unmeet under Christmas skies;     I claim that such lips on such maidens owe     Asomethingthe custom justifies;     I claim that the mistletoe rule applies     To her as well as the rank and file;     We should meet these things in a cheerful guise,     But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile?     Envoy     These customs of Christmas may shock the wise,     And mistletoe boughs may be out of style,     And a kiss be a thing that all maids despise,     But look at those lips, do! They hint a smile!