IMITATION
MY love she leans from the window
Afar in a rosy land;
And red as a rose are her blushes,
And white as a rose her hand.
And the roses cluster around her,
And mimic her tender grace;
And nothing but roses can blossom
Wherever she shows her face.
I dwell in a land of winter,
From my love a world apart,—
But the snow blooms over with roses
At the thought of her in my heart.
This German style of poem
Is uncommonly popular now;
For the worst of us poets can do it—
Since Heine showed us how.
H. C. Bunner.