215 
See, like a ladye in a festal garb, 
How gaily decked she waits the Christmas time ! 
Her robe of living emerald, that waves 
And, shining, rustles in the frost-bright air. 
Is garlanded with bunches of small flowers,— 
Small bell-shaped flowers, each of an orient pearl 
Most delicately modelled, and just tinged 
With faintest yellow, as if, lit within. 
There hung a fairy torch in each lamp-flower. 
Some have a pinky hue, soft as a shell 
Painted by Amphitrite’s hands ; for they, less white 
Than Lilies when they ope, blush e’en to know 
That Summer hath a flower more pure than they. 
Nor are her pearls the only wealth displayed 
By this fair Winter Queen; for, all around. 
Among those bead-like wreaths, do gleam and glow 
Jewels of many hues; globes of rich gold 
Hanging beside the pale green chrysophrase; 
And those contrasted by the ruby’s light. 
Or coral, snatched from out some sea-maid’s cell; 
Against which amber soft and palely shines. 
Fast deep’ning to the hue the topaz wears. 
And these, with ceaseless changefulness of shade, 
Broider that Ladye’s pearl-enwi'eathed robe 
Of vernal emerald.—When chilling stonns 
Howl dismally around, and Winter shakes. 
Wide spreading to the blast, his hoary locks. 
Till they array the frozen earth in snow. 
