noon
An inconstant elf , he knows not himself , Nor his own changing mind an hour , He 'll smile in your face , and , with wry grimace , He 'll wither your youngest flower . ` Let the Summer sun to his bright home run , He shall never be sought by me ; When he 's dimmed by a cloud I can laugh aloud And care not how sulky he be ! For his darling child is the madness wild That sports in fierce fever 's train ; And when love is too strong , it do n't last long , As many have found to their pain . ` A mild harvest night , by the tranquil light Of the modest and gentle moon , Has a far sweeter sheen for me , I ween , Than the broad and unblushing noon . But every leaf awakens my grief , As it lieth beneath the tree ; So let Autumn air be never so fair , It by no means agrees with me . ` But my song I troll out , for _ Christmas _ Stout , The hearty , the true , and the bold ; A bumper I drain , and with might and main Give three cheers for this Christmas old ! We 'll usher him in with a merry din That shall gladden his joyous heart , And we 'll keep him up , while there 's bite or sup , And in fellowship good , we 'll part .