Oh! beautiful winterbloom, why did you tarry?
O, why in Spring’s glory of budding and bloom,
Were hidden your jewels, wee, golden and starry,
To open them now, in November’s chill gloom?
The crocuses first heard the warm breezes calling,
The dandelions glowed in their emerald sea
And lilies, sun-kissed, in the lakelets were lolling—
All Flora’s enchantments were beckoning thee.
When June, in soft airs, swung her rose-freighted censer,
And dew gems were set with the buttercup’s gold—The
annual bloom, growing brighter and denser—
Why still, from the summer, your beauty withhold?
“When Spring in her gladness poured beauty around you,
And joy bells rang with most musical tone,
When opulent Summer with riches had crowned you,
My coming had then been unheeded, unknown.
Now flowers of springtime and summer have left you,
The winter’s foreclosure has shadowed the home—
Of the last clinging leaves the cold winds have bereft you—
As a friend in Adversity, now I am come.”