Wreaths of star-leaves, berry bright, emboss’d
In cluster’d panicles of full red-ripe star.
And trellises of soft white—coronals flung—
In winding wreaths and festoons of star-spray,
And lighted planets in dim alcoves hung
Unto the coming of His natal day.
And potted star-plants massed in splendor bright
About a lake whose mirror is the moon,
While sprays of milky-ways float soft and light
Or sink into the placid lake too soon.