25 DECEMBER 1875, Page 14

POETRY.

CHRISTMAS.

UNDER green boughs our Christmas keeping, Bright berries fall, loved ones are sleeping, Dark shadows on our hearth come creeping ; Christ bids us smile, but we are weeping.

He bids us smile, because He soweth Our berries where His soft wind bloweth, He saith, " Each one a fair tree groweth ; " We doubt, we hope : but our God knoweth.

" M. E. S.