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LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 DEC 16 1905 
 
 Copyrisht Entry 
 CLASS (X. XXc. No, 
 
 I 3 3 6'^r 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 Copyright, 1905, 
 
 By Annie Bell Redd, 
 
 Columbus, Ga. 
 
 Jas. J. & Thofl. Gilbert, 
 
 Printers, 
 
 Columbus, Qa. 
 

 DEDICATED 
 TO 
 
 THE STUDENTS^ CLUB 
 
 OF 
 COLUMBUS, GA. 
 
y OU ask me, friends, about Christmas greens. 
 J^-^ You'd like to hear of the happy scenes 
 
 Of childhood's day. 
 When all the children so soundly slept 
 As old Kris down through the chimney crept 
 
 In wondrous way? 
 
 You*d like to hear how he crept around 
 So softly, slowly, so that no sound 
 
 Could reach the ear 
 Of little tots in their beds so snug. 
 And how he placed on the bright-hued rug 
 
 The gifts so dear? 
 
 If so, I'd paint you a picture bright 
 With Christmas greens, and too, a sight 
 
 Of other things. 
 One then I'd paint of the Christmas morn 
 When first we saw the new doll and horn 
 
 Kris always brings . 
 
the legends, tho', you desire I'd tell, 
 Of holly, mistletoe, pine, and — well, 
 
 Just all things green 
 Which keep their verdure all through the year, 
 And banish thoughts of the winter drear. 
 
 'Tis this you mean. 
 
 So first, I'll speak of the mistletoe. 
 This plant, the Druids of old, we know, 
 
 Did sacred hold. 
 'Gainst poisons 'twas a sure antidote, 
 And evil spirits held quite remote. 
 
 So I've been told. 
 
 If found and plucked not too late in spring, 
 On sixth day's moon, 'twould not fail to bring 
 
 The greatest bliss. 
 And when 'twas found on the sacred oak, 
 The priests would call to them all the folk : 
 
 Not one would miss 
 
 The banquet grand and the beauteous sight 
 Of priests all clothed in pure vestments white, 
 
 While two would hold 
 The snowy cloth, upon which would fall 
 The plant thus cut in the sight of all, 
 
 With blade of gold. 
 
Two milk-white heifers were then brought out, 
 And all the people would loudly shout 
 
 As they were slain. 
 This ritual over, the whole day long 
 The Druids feasted, and bards gave song 
 
 Of sweetest strain. 
 
 Another legend, perhaps, will show 
 We should not use fated mistletoe 
 
 When hearts are gay, 
 For 'twas with this that the Baldur good 
 Received his death-wound in Valhal's wood, 
 
 On festal day. 
 
 The story, tho', I must tell aright. 
 
 This god was told in a dream one night 
 
 Of danger nigh. 
 To other gods he then told his woe : 
 On their assistance, they let him know 
 
 He could rely. 
 
 His mother, Frigga, exacted oath 
 
 From fire, and water, the earth, and both 
 
 The snakes that charm. 
 And beasts that kill : in fact, ev'ry thing 
 On land or sea, that they'd never bring 
 
 To Baldur harm. 
 
This done, he sometimes would stand quite still, 
 And let the gods cut or shoot at will. 
 
 And feared no blow. 
 Among the gods was old Loki vile, 
 Who pondered viciously all the while, 
 
 Just where to go 
 
 To learn the secret of how to kill 
 
 That god. In woman's garb he roamed 'till 
 
 He Frigga saw. 
 He asked if things had by her been led 
 To swear that Baldur they'd spare. She said 
 
 "It is the law. 
 
 '^They promised all, save a shrub quite small. 
 Nearby Vahalla it grows. We call 
 
 It mistletoe. 
 It seemed so harmless, so tender, young, 
 I claimed no promise from it, as't swung 
 
 On trees below." 
 
 Then Loki left her; his heart was light; 
 
 His hopes were high, for he thought, "This night 
 
 Will Baldur die.'^ 
 He went where gods with their darts and spears 
 In sport struck Baldur midst mirth and cheers 
 
 As sped they by. 
 
He saw blind Hodur, who stood apart, 
 And asked why he had not hurled a dart. 
 
 '^I cannot see : 
 And nothing have I which I can throw." 
 *'Take this. I'll guide thy hand," said the foe 
 
 With chuckling glee. 
 
 'Gainst mistletoe, his life had no charm. 
 That only, could do the hero harm. 
 
 And soon it sped 
 From Hodur' s well-guided hand, and flew 
 To'ard Baldur; and, whilst pierced through and through, 
 
 The god fell— dead. 
 
 I'll gladly leave now this legend sad: 
 More gladly since 'tis a yuletide fad 
 
 In such a wise 
 To hang this plant so a lad might pass 
 Beneath the bough with a winsome lass 
 
 With sparkling eyes. 
 
 He must indeed, be obtuse — or shy. 
 If, doubting, ling' ring, he lets time fly 
 
 With mistletoe 
 O'erhead, (placed there for the lad's own sake) 
 And fails the coveted kiss to take. 
 
 Don't you think so? 
 
The next in order is pine, I think, 
 Which mainly serves as connecting link 
 
 For other greens. 
 Much beauty it has, and yet no grace, 
 But still, it must ever have its place 
 
 Mid yuletide scenes. 
 
 'Tis one of Nature's most cherished trees : 
 She lets it thrive spite of frost and breeze 
 
 However cold. 
 And when she patches her leaves and vines, 
 She uses the needles that grow on pines, 
 
 Say stories old. 
 
 fSf^ JF^ Jr^ 
 
 The Germans tell us a story old 
 
 Which makes the fir-tree the first place hold : 
 
 'Tis much like this : 
 Two little children one winter night 
 For supper had but a tiny bite. 
 
 The little miss 
 
 Drew near her brother and said, '^A knock !" 
 He reached the door and undid the lock. 
 
 There stood a child. 
 With cold he shivered, and begged for food. 
 They brought him in, as good children would, 
 
 And then they smiled 
 
To think what they had to give a guest. 
 Not much, in truth, but they gave the best 
 
 That they could find. 
 They slept on benches and let their bed 
 ,The stranger have. The poor child then said 
 
 "How very kind !" 
 
 Asleep they fell; but before 'twas long, 
 They heard a beautiful angel's song. 
 
 They looked, and oh, 
 They saw outside, a soft rosy light, 
 And children there robed in silver bright, 
 
 Who sang below : 
 
 ''O Child, we greet Thee, bringing 
 Our harps to aid our singing. 
 Thou, holy Child, art sleeping 
 While we our watch are keeping. 
 Blest house wherein Thou lyest; 
 To heaven it is the nighest." 
 
 The children listened with great delight; 
 Were gazing still at th' enchanting sight 
 
 With joy untold, 
 When some slight noise made them look around 
 The stranger child in the room they found. 
 
 In dress of gold. 
 
''1 am the Christ Child, ^' he gently said. 
 "You thought me poor, you gave me your bed, 
 
 Your food. Behold ! 
 Heaven's choicest blessings I give to you; — 
 Both health and wealth, and contentment, too." 
 
 A fir-tree bold 
 
 Grew near the house; and from this, he broke 
 A twig and planted it. Then he spoke 
 
 To them once more. 
 "A tree shall this be, and bring to you 
 Each year new fruit." Then he vanished through 
 
 The open door. 
 
 The twig became a large Christmas tree; 
 And while the children sang loud with glee, 
 
 And danced with joy. 
 They found apples there of purest gold, 
 And silver nuts, too. This tale I've told 
 
 With some alloy. 
 
 A riddle now, I give you to guess, 
 
 And risk your thinking I shouldn't digress ;- 
 
 That 'tisn't quite nice. 
 What can be green as the greenest pine, 
 Yet bright a red as a sunset fine, 
 
 And smooth as ice? 
 
The holly ! beautiful, bright, and gay. 
 We cast our sadness and woes away 
 
 When holly smiles. 
 With leaves so green, and its berries bright, 
 While hearts and homes teem with life and light, 
 
 It time beguiles. 
 
 You'd like to know how it won its fame? 
 How 'twas that it the tree-queen became 
 
 On Christmas day ? 
 I've heard that once no bright berries grew 
 Beside its leaves of a dark green hue. 
 
 Some one did say 
 
 That Christmas morn long, long years ago, 
 A child was dancing along, when lo ! 
 
 A moan, a whine 
 From bushes nigh ! She approached and found 
 A Bunny caught in sharp holly : bound 
 
 As though with twine. 
 
 Midst thorns she thrust her soft little hand; 
 Not once she heeded, you understand, 
 
 The pain they caused. 
 She set him free, and away he sped; 
 Not e'en a "Thank you," the fellow said. 
 
 'Twas then she paused. 
 
Her hands were bleeding, and bruised, and torn. 
 She saw the holly, and, near the thorn 
 
 Close by a leaf, 
 Was what she thought just some berries red; 
 It proved to be the pure blood she'd shed 
 
 For Bun' s relief. 
 
 And then she heard a sound strangely sweet. 
 A rich-toned organ it seemed, replete 
 
 With harmony. 
 She thought it came from above the tree. 
 But when she looked, she could nothing see. 
 
 "A charm !" thought she. 
 
 But no! a voice! "Pluck a spray, you'll find 
 That you have jewels; the rarest kind 
 
 That wealth e'er buys. 
 Your drops of blood to rich rubies turned; 
 And diamonds formed of the tears that burned 
 
 The Bunny' s eyes. ' ' 
 
 She scarce believed that the words were true; 
 But sure, the drops which she thought were dew, 
 
 Were diamonds bright 
 As those Golconda sends out. And oh, 
 The carmine rubies there, were, we know, 
 
 Her heart's delight. 
 
 10 
 
Soon flocked a crowd to the famous tree, 
 But found no gems; they could only see 
 
 Twigs, berries, leaves. 
 Such jewels were not thus formed for pelf, 
 But her alone, who fogetting self, 
 
 Distress relieves. 
 
 Among these stories that I have told. 
 You'll find some new, and the others old 
 
 As — as the hills. 
 Just tell them please to the children dear. 
 Perhaps they'll add to the season's cheer 
 
 When winter chills. 
 
 And now, I bring Christmas greeting, friends. 
 If each swift moment while fleeting, sends 
 
 A blessing bright 
 To each of you, why remember, dears. 
 To praise the one who has banished tears, — 
 
 Who hearts made light. 
 
 With Chrir^mas greens you will dress your homes. 
 With them, weave thoughts of the love that comes 
 
 In darkest night; 
 The glorious love that hath brought the "Peace, 
 Good will to all," and will e'er increase 
 
 And Heav'n make bright. 
 
 11 
 
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