CHRISTMAS, MADISON SQUARE
In dismal darkness stands the Christmas pine
The Orthodox have put up for a sign
Among the sombre trees that mark the Square.
Oh, there are moral people everywhere
Indulge the doctrine still of "doing good;"
They brought the tree uprooted from the wood.
Like oranges or apples of warm gold
Are bulbs of gleaming light the branches hold,
And yet that golden fruit no languor drenches!
Below, the motley company
Is like a shadow, neither spiced nor gay,
That hovers wearily to huddled benches.
The Orthodox have put up for a sign
Among the sombre trees that mark the Square.
Oh, there are moral people everywhere
Indulge the doctrine still of "doing good;"
They brought the tree uprooted from the wood.
Like oranges or apples of warm gold
Are bulbs of gleaming light the branches hold,
And yet that golden fruit no languor drenches!
Below, the motley company
Is like a shadow, neither spiced nor gay,
That hovers wearily to huddled benches.
On one of these a woman sits alone;
More poor than thirsting youth for being older.
She's leaning on her arm. Her slanted shoulder
Says more clear than any word she's lonely.
She yields the icy wind her neck and hair;
Her lids are closed.
A foil of softer air
Brings vision of the forest her first lover
Wove into his Poetry.
To-night her shivering fancy can recover
The scene of a June world remote and free;
More poor than thirsting youth for being older.
She's leaning on her arm. Her slanted shoulder
Says more clear than any word she's lonely.
She yields the icy wind her neck and hair;
Her lids are closed.
A foil of softer air
Brings vision of the forest her first lover
Wove into his Poetry.
To-night her shivering fancy can recover
The scene of a June world remote and free;
[16]
