VICTRIX.
Here's a lady come to town
Puts us all to shame;
Walking in with noiseless feet,
Very light and very fleet,
Over-night she came.
Not a beauty in the land,
Though she knew no peer
Both for comeliness and grace,
But must take a second place—
The snow is here.
Never monarch wore, I swear,
Such a radiant dress;
All the whitenesses we prize
Suddenly before our eyes
Turn to dinginess.
Gone are all the shining joys
That we held so dear;
Linens, marbles, gleaming plumes
We must hide in shadowed glooms—
The snow is here.
Veil your brows, you pretty maids,
With your falling curls;
Should you venture forth to-day
Tuck your milky throats away,
Cover up your pearls.
Naught shall match your loveliness
Later in the year
(Who so foolish as to dare
Say the lily is more fair?)
But—the snow is here.
R. F.