MISTLETOE
"PRAY—what is the reason for mistletoe?
Said Clarice with the shy, dark eyes
That gave, ere the gold-tipped lashes fell,
A vision of Paradise.
"Was it because some old Norse god—
Balder I think was his name—
Was slain by an arrow made of it?"
(O red lips, who could blame
A man's mad thoughts
Or the things he said
With the witch-green spray
Just over her head!)
Said Clarice with the shy, dark eyes
That gave, ere the gold-tipped lashes fell,
A vision of Paradise.
"Was it because some old Norse god—
Balder I think was his name—
Was slain by an arrow made of it?"
(O red lips, who could blame
A man's mad thoughts
Or the things he said
With the witch-green spray
Just over her head!)
"You are right," I answered, calm and grave,
Though my blood beat time to a song
"Ere began the twilight of the gods
Loki wrought Balder this wrong.
We read the story in old, old books,
Down the ages the legend slips,
But the reason to me for mistletoe,
Clarice, are your rose-leaf lips!"
(Ah! the old Norse god
Laughed long, I know,
For I caught her there
'Neath the mistletoe.)
Though my blood beat time to a song
"Ere began the twilight of the gods
Loki wrought Balder this wrong.
We read the story in old, old books,
Down the ages the legend slips,
But the reason to me for mistletoe,
Clarice, are your rose-leaf lips!"
(Ah! the old Norse god
Laughed long, I know,
For I caught her there
'Neath the mistletoe.)
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