When frost has clad the dripping cliffs 

 With fluted columns, crystal clear, 



And million-flaked the feathery snow 

 Has shrouded close the dying year ; 



Beside the rock, where'er we turn, 



Behold, there waves the Christmas fern. 



No shivering frond that shuns the blast 

 Sways on its slender chaffy stem ; 



Full-veined and lusty green it stands, 

 Of all the wintry woods the gem. 



Our spirits rise when we discern 



The pennons of the Christmas fern. 



With holly and the running pine 



Then let its fronds in wreaths appear, 



'Tis summer's fairest tribute given, 

 To grace our merry Yuletide cheer. 



Ah, who can fear the winter stern 



While still there grows the Christmas fern. 



