What sweeter music can we bring
Than a carol for to sing
The Birth of this our heavenly King?
Dark, dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honor to this day,
That sees December turned to May.
Why does the chilling winter morn
Smile like a field beset with corn;
Or smell like to a mead new-shorn
Thus on the sudden? Come and see
The cause, why things thus fragrant be.
'T is He is born, whose quickening birth
Gives life and lustre, public mirth,
To heaven and the under-earth.
The Darling of the world is come,
And fit it is we find a room
To welcome Him. The nobler part
Of all the house here is the heart,
Which we will give Him, and bequeath
This holly and this ivy wreath,
To do him honor who's our King,
And Lord of all our revelling.