Too chill to let the redder roses blow,
We, too, had our delicious hidden flower
That blossomed in life's snow.
O heart, if we again might hope to be
Pure as the snow or Christmas roses white!
If dreams and deeds might but be one to me,
And one to thee be duty and delight!
If that may ever be, one hand we know
Must beckon us along the way she goes,