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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
CVIII. TO THE SNOW-WREATH WHITE.
To the snow-wreath white
Came a sunbeam bright,
With golden wings, and smile of light,
And it softly sings,—“Oh, pure and fair!
Thou art dearer than all in earth or air!”
Came a sunbeam bright,
With golden wings, and smile of light,
And it softly sings,—“Oh, pure and fair!
Thou art dearer than all in earth or air!”
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And the snow-wreath heard
Each low, sweet word,
Till its still, light heart was wildly stirr'd;
And it sigh'd, “Depart! oh, angel fair:
Too fragile I thy love to share!”
Each low, sweet word,
Till its still, light heart was wildly stirr'd;
And it sigh'd, “Depart! oh, angel fair:
Too fragile I thy love to share!”
But the bright ray came,
With its soul of flame,
Till the snow-wreath blush'd for love and shame,
And with rose-hues flush'd, to beauty brief,
It died, in its delicate grace, of grief!
With its soul of flame,
Till the snow-wreath blush'd for love and shame,
And with rose-hues flush'd, to beauty brief,
It died, in its delicate grace, of grief!
For it wept away
Its life for the ray
That stole from heaven, and dared not stay;
And now forgiven, and robed in light,
It weds the ray in the rainbow bright!
Its life for the ray
That stole from heaven, and dared not stay;
And now forgiven, and robed in light,
It weds the ray in the rainbow bright!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |