The Fay who weaves the lily,
And the Elf who paints the rose,
Leaned out of their silver balconies
Deep under the winter snows,
With greetings clear for the bright New Year,
And gallant words of love and cheer, –
Though the breath of their incense froze.
As if they knew their Poet
Was out in the shivering air, –
Though sparing never a glance for him, –
Into lilting rythms rare,
Their mellow speech ran out from each,
Like twin brooks over a pebbled beach
When the reeds are whispering there.
And the Fay said to the Elfin:
“Ho, Brother of mine! What cheer?
No work for thy dainty pencil now,
While the frost-king lordeth here.
What will we, them, for the sons of men,
To make the sad heart merry again,
And give them a Happy New Year;”
And the Elf replied: “My Sister,
There be roses and lilies enow
For the dantiest touch of my bloomy tints,
And thy vestal veil of snow.
In the maiden’s cheek my hues shall speak
Through the pearl of thy web, and our sweetness reek
From the pure, warm heart below.
Thy white shall dower her spirit,
And my red her throbbing heart,
Love’s herald blush I’ll paint with a touch,
Deep down where thy lilies start,
The lips are mine, and the white smile thine,
And ours together the soul’s sunshine,
When the laughing rose-lips part.”
Then the Fay of the lilies answered:
“So be it, O Brother of mine!
With us shall there be no summer lost,
Though the winter frown or shine,
For hearts can yield as fresh a field
As the green earth, keeping it uncongealed,
For our plastic skills divine.”
O, blithely the Fay and the Elfin
Went out through, the homes of men,
And beauty, purity, love and light
Bloomed sweetly, never as then!
In the lowliest cot was a garden-plot
For the graces and virtues the fairies brought,
And summer came blushing again!
Around the Christmas cedar,
And the New Year’s holm, appear –
To the eye of the Watcher over our heads –
Bright flowers they planted here,
Their lily and rose, whose sweets unclose
In the heart that loves, and the mind that knows,
So making the Happy New Year.
