253 
“For I shall bring 
Curtains all wove of the silvery snow. 
And drop them around—above—below. 
While not a thing 
That thou hast cherished its face shall show. 
Fling away all 
Thy fluttering leaves and faded flowers; 
Too slight—too small 
Their forms would seem in my lofty bowers; 
For wreaths and garlands are sculptured there 
Like marble, yet whiter than ever were 
The chisel’s triumphs — and all so light. 
Like down, or gossamer streamers slight. 
That a breeze can shake the branches bare. 
“ Oft in the night. 
When wearied mortals lie warmly sleeping, 
I 0 er the world through the air am sweeping 
Roaming about 
And tricking out 
Each familiar scene like a Fairy land; 
Hanging pendants of icicles clear 
From roof, shed, window—there and here. 
In many a crystal and diamond spear; 
And flinging pearls with a lavish hand 
O’er hedge, field, fence, hush, grove, and tree. 
All set in a silvery filagree. 
