THE CHINA STAR- 
BY E. C. S. 
’Twas late in Autumn—every trace of Summer, 
Had faded from the landscape long ago ! 
The half-froze streamlet, moved with slow, sad murmur— 
The withered leaves were flying to and fro 
Before the dreary, shrill, unpitying blast; 
And all the sky above with clouds were overcast! 
I looked abroad—and o’er my senses stealing 
A desolation like to Nature’s came— 
A cold, forsaken, emptiness of feeling. 
Which we can better understand than name ! 
’Twas, as if all I loved, at once had fled— 
The birds, the fields, the flowers, were unto me as dead. 
Towards my loved garden with sad footstep straying, 
I turned to gaze, as on the face of death! 
An early snow to Earth each shrub was weighing, 
And all looked blighted by the Autumn’s breath; 
Not all, for there, half-hid by covering pale, 
A China Star blushed, like bride beneath her veil. 
