Dora Sigerson Shorter

For that old love I once adored
     I decked my halls and spread my board
                 At Christmas time.
     With all the winter’s flowers that grow
     I wreathed my room, and mistletoe
     Hung in the gloom of my doorway,
     Wherein my dear lost love might stray
                 When joy-bells chime.

     What phantom was it entered there
     And drank his wine and took his chair
                 At Christmas time?
     With holly boughs and mistletoe
     He crowned his head, and at my woe
     And tears I shed laughed long and loud;
     “Get back, O phantom! to thy shroud
                 When joy-bells chime.”