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Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.

III. Christmas Sonnets. 2. To E. C. S.

Bayard Taylor (1825–1878)

WHEN days were long, and o’er that farm of mine,

Green Cedarcroft, the summer breezes blew,

And from the walnut-shadows I and you,

Dear Edmund, saw the red lawn-roses shine,

Or, following our idyllic Brandywine

Through meadows flecked with many a flowery hue,

To where with wild Arcadian pomp I drew

Your Bacchic march among the startled kine,—

You gave me, linked with old Mæonides,

Your loving sonnet,—record dear and true

Of days as dear; and now, when suns are brief

And Christmas snows are on the naked trees,

I give you this,—a withered winter leaf,

Yet with your blossom from one root it grew!