Mary Dow Brine Poems

The woman was old and ragged and gray,
And bent with the chill of a winter's day;
The streets were white with a recent snow,
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Creatures of golden, sunshiny weather,
Coquetting with blossoms for hours together!
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The crimson glory of the setting sun
Hath lain a moment on the ocean's breast,
Till twilight shadows, gathering one by one,
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Oh! beautiful lilies, so fair and sweet,
Ye opened your leaves for the Easter morn,
And helped us rejoice that the winter had passed,
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Like the ever-living spring
Whose waters freely flow
Tho' lake and river, brook and stream,
Are sealed by winter's snow:
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