 | Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) |  |
156
CHRYSANTHEMUMS.
Once, long ago in summer's glow,
We threaded, you and I,
A garden's maze of pleasant ways,
Whose beauty charmed the eye,—
Where violets bent in sweet content,
And pinks stood proud and high.
We threaded, you and I,
A garden's maze of pleasant ways,
Whose beauty charmed the eye,—
Where violets bent in sweet content,
And pinks stood proud and high.
And from their screen of tender green
Broad pansies, peeping through,
Wore gorgeous dyes like butterflies;
Cool lilies kept the dew,
And fair and tall along the wall
The climbing roses grew.
Broad pansies, peeping through,
Wore gorgeous dyes like butterflies;
Cool lilies kept the dew,
And fair and tall along the wall
The climbing roses grew.
The velvet bees in fragrant ease,
Lay drunken with perfume,
Song-sparrows made the garden's shade
Their fitting concert-room,
And all the air was music there,
And all the earth was bloom.
Lay drunken with perfume,
Song-sparrows made the garden's shade
Their fitting concert-room,
And all the air was music there,
And all the earth was bloom.
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There grew one plant in utter want
Of bud or blossom-dower;—
I broke a spray of leaves away,
And said, “The winter hour
Will crown these stems with diadems,—
This bears the Christ's sweet flower.
Of bud or blossom-dower;—
I broke a spray of leaves away,
And said, “The winter hour
Will crown these stems with diadems,—
This bears the Christ's sweet flower.
“It cheers with bloom the stormy gloom
By chill December nursed;
And it is told in stories old
That this fair blossom first,
On that blest morn when Christ was born,
Into white beauty burst.
By chill December nursed;
And it is told in stories old
That this fair blossom first,
On that blest morn when Christ was born,
Into white beauty burst.
“Perhaps—ah well, we cannot tell
If truly it be so;
I but repeat the legend sweet,
And only this I know,—
That in the prime of Christmas time
The Christ's sweet flowers blow.
If truly it be so;
I but repeat the legend sweet,
And only this I know,—
That in the prime of Christmas time
The Christ's sweet flowers blow.
“More pure and clear than any here,
Their snowy discs unfold,
White as a star that melts afar
Into the morning's gold,
And odor rare above compare,
Their fragrant fringes hold.
Their snowy discs unfold,
White as a star that melts afar
Into the morning's gold,
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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.
159
And what to me are light and glee
When all the while I know
That cold and deep the snow-drifts heap
Above thy slumber low,
What do I care that white and fair
The Christ's sweet flowers blow?
When all the while I know
That cold and deep the snow-drifts heap
Above thy slumber low,
What do I care that white and fair
The Christ's sweet flowers blow?
| Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) | |