A WINTER SONG
THE wreath is faded from the reveller’s brow,
Never a flower remains!
Where is the beauty, where the gladness now—
The lip the vintage stains?
Fled as a dream! But, by my dying fire,
As I sit here alone—
The snowflakes spotting all her dusk attire
Enters a wrinkled crone:
‘Cottage and hall alike must ope to me,’
Quoth the unwelcome wife;
‘I come, uncalled, to bear you company,
And leave you but with life!’
Douglas, George. “A Winter Song.” The Evergreen; A Northern Seasonal, vol. 4, Winter 1896-7, p. 21. Evergreen Digital Edition, edited by Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2016-2018. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2019. https://1890s.ca/egv4_douglas_song/