A wreath for the bright red sparkling wine,
Though roses are dead
And their bloom is fled,
Yet for Christmas a bonnie, bonnie wreath we'll twine.
Away to the wood where the bright holly grows,
And its red berries blush amid winter snows,
Away to ruin where the green ivy clings,
And around the dark fane its verdure flings;
Hey! for the ivy and holly so bright,
They are the garlands for Christmas night.
Louisa Anne Twamley, 1835
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