Chrysanthemums.
Mrs. Mary E. Dodge.
Bravest of brave sweet blossoms in all of the garden-row;
Fair, when most of the flowers shrink from the winds that blow;
Gay, when the dismal north wind wails through the tree-tops dumb;
Breathing a breath of gladness is the brave Chrysanthemum.
One is of tawny color; another of cardinal glow,
As the cheek of a sun-warmed maiden and reddest of wine will show;
While some are of gorgeous yellow, like gold in a monarch’s crown,
And some of a royal purple, dusted with softest down.
Some of a creamy whiteness, touched to a rosy blush,
As the snow of the lovely Jungfrau glows with a sunset flush;
Some flame at the heart, pearl-petaled; and lavender-hued are some;
Yet each of them, crude or cultured, just a brave Chrysanthemum.