description of the festival--

"England was merry England when
Old Christmas brought his sports again;
A Christmas gambol oft would cheer
A poor man's heart through all the year."

All the old poets sing in praise of the great day which, as Herrick
says, "sees December turned to May," and which makes the "chilling
winter's morn smile like a field beset with corn." Old carols chant
in reverent strains their homage to the infant Saviour: some reflect
time-honoured customs and social joys when old age casts aside its
solemnity and mingles once more in the light-hearted gaiety of
youth, and all unite in chanting the praises of this happy festival.
The poet Withers sings--

"Lo! now is come our joyful'st feast!
Let every man be jolly;
Each room with ivy leaves is drest,
And every post with holly.

"Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.

"Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if, for cold, it has to die,
We'll bury it in Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry."