MISTLETOE.

A cold dark night, Some falling snow; A gleam of light, A ruddy glow. A quaint old hall, Some warriors grim, Whose shadows fall Grotesque and dim. A maiden fair, A gleam of gold Upon her hair— The story old. While the storm’s breath Sweeps o’er the snow, One kiss beneath The mistletoe. Ten Christmas Eves Have come and gone, And each one leaves Me still alone. That fair sweet maid Of years ago Has long been laid Beneath the snow. While the wind drives Against the pane, In fancy lives My love again. The firelight fades, The embers glow, One kiss beneath The mistletoe. Nora C. Usher.