158
CHRYSANTHEMUMS.
And odor rare above compare,
Their fragrant fringes hold.
Their fragrant fringes hold.
"This branch I break for memory's sake,
And ere descends the snow,
The slender bough I sever now
Within our home shall grow;
How brightly there, all white and fair,
The Christ's sweet flowers shall blow!"
And ere descends the snow,
The slender bough I sever now
Within our home shall grow;
How brightly there, all white and fair,
The Christ's sweet flowers shall blow!"
*****
The curtains fold away the cold,—
The bleak and drifting snow;
Red fire-gleams fall where on the wall
The pleasant pictures glow;
And fair and white beneath the light
The Christ's sweet flowers blow.
The bleak and drifting snow;
Red fire-gleams fall where on the wall
The pleasant pictures glow;
And fair and white beneath the light
The Christ's sweet flowers blow.
But cold and deep the snow-drifts heap
Above thy silent form;
I cannot hold my garment's fold
Between thee and the storm,—
I cannot dare the bitter air,
And clasp thee near and warm.
Above thy silent form;
I cannot hold my garment's fold
Between thee and the storm,—
I cannot dare the bitter air,
And clasp thee near and warm.
