THE cold hours pass. As blue as glass The beads of the frost On the boughs are lost, And over the empty plain of snow King James' ghost is dragging slow. The maids say "Ah!" The maids say "Oh!" Like tall fir-trees They stand in a row, As tall as ghosts they glimmer bright Like the lily stars so tall and white. But I am brave, like a fairy churn The milk in the dairy, -- cream I turn To butter pats like gold moidores . . . Outside in the snow, across the floors, In at the window, came King James, Pointing at me his finger-flames . . . "My bones are changed to cinnamon, Cold as stones, 'neath the wintry moon, For cold is the gold-kernelled berry On the sweet cornelian cherry Tree" . . . then over the plain of snow No sight of the King, or high or low! Only the blue glass beads of the frost, In the furry boughs where King James is lost, And the maids that fall Down in a swoon, One by one 'Neath the wintry moon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FINIS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MAN TO BE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEEP IN THE QUIET WOOD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM THINGS ARE WHAT THEY SEEM by MARIANNE MOORE |