I am standing under the mistletoe, <br />And I smile, but no answering smile replies <br />For her haughty glance bids me plainly know <br />That not for me is the thing I prize; <br />Instead, from her coldly scornful eyes, <br />Indifference looks on my barefaced guile; <br />She knows, of course, what my act implies— <br />But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile? <br /> <br />I stand here, eager, and beam and glow, <br />And she only looks a refined surprise <br />As clear and crisp and as cold as snow, <br />And as—Stop! I will never criticise! <br />I know what her cold glance signifies; <br />But I’ll stand just here as I am awhile <br />Till a smile to my pleading look replies— <br />But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile? <br /> <br />Just look at those lips, now! I claim they show <br />A spirit unmeet under Christmas skies; <br />I claim that such lips on such maidens owe <br />A—something—the custom justifies; <br />I claim that the mistletoe rule applies <br />To her as well as the rank and file; <br />We should meet these things in a cheerful guise— <br />But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile? <br /> <br />ENVOY <br /> <br />These customs of Christmas may shock the wise, <br />And mistletoe boughs may be out of style, <br />And a kiss be a thing that all maids despise— <br />But look at those lips, do! They hint a smile!<br /><br />Ellis Parker Butler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ballade-of-the-mistletoe-bough/
