FRINGED GENTIAN. 



A wondrous fairness hath the perfect flower, 

 Serenely calm beneath a sapphire sky, 



But holier far, in Autumn s wildest hour, 

 The constant love that cannot wholly die; 



To me her radiant youth new faith did bring, 



Yet now her pallor seems a higher thing. 



Thrilled by her gaze, I deem no fancy wild 



Where spirit grace outlasts the ruder clay; 

 For me, the Autumn s last and loveliest child 



Takes not even now her haunting charm away, 

 But when cold storms have stripped the snow-clad 



hill, 



In finer spirit-presence lingers still ! 



s 9 



