Jonathan E. Hoag

“ With crimson leaves thou wav'st thy blooming fruit
Thy tiny petals, kissed by morning sun,
With glad acclaim enjoy his golden rays.
The air, as by sweet frankincense perfumed,
Brings us the scent of balmy summer days.
Cease, ye vain nymphs from prairies wild and far,
Who would your gaudy robes in pride compare
Who on all plainer garbs affect to frown,
While perfumed lilies scent the morning air.
Now chilling blasts have touched thy crimson cheek;
Thy frosted leaves are scattered far and near;
Thy tender petals and thy fragrant bloom
Are sleeping through the days so cold and drear. ”