A question.it reads:
When we speak of the Nativity,
All words seem to lack sufficiency;
Christmas is a warming of the heart,
For which a verse may do its part;
But no mere sentiment can contain
No melodic rhyme can right explain
What it is from all these flow
What made men celebrate the snow
When it was darkest, before they knew?
A hope of spring in a moon or two;
But the real root we cannot see
Lost in the mist of antiquity
Ideas many, but words are few
From the ones who first did strew
Holly-bough upon a hearth,
Raise festal tree upon the earth?
What was in his gleaming eye,
About spring-sprout did he sigh?
Or did he groan because in night
Like the earth, he hoped for light?