Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/47

 And its glory Gilds the story, Tints the picture, wreathes the hair."

"O wailing, worn, forsaken garden," Artemisia softly said, "Know you not there's glory waiting When these autumn days have sped— A sequel glory To Life s story, A crown of crystal for the head?"

O'er the waiting, silent garden Came, one starry, frosty night, Strange new robes of shining splendor, Crystalline and strangely bright. So morning found The garden crowned, And robed in mystic robe of white.

Each leaf, and bough, and carved capsule, Seeded plume, grass-blade, and stone, With curious screen of spiders' weaving, In a resplendent rainbow shone. So, ere the morn To earth was born, The King redeemed her for his own. 4*