The Frail Eidolons Of All Blossoms Spring, Year After Year, About The Forest Tossed, The Magic Touch Of The Enchanter, Frost, Back From The Heaven Of The Flow'Rs Doth Bring; Each Branch And Bush In Silence Visiting With Phantom Beauty Of Its Blooms Long Lost: Each Dead Weed Bends, White-Haunted Of Its Ghost, Each Dead Flower Stands Ghostly With Blossoming. This Is The Wonder-Legend Nature Tells To The Gray Moon And Mist A Winter'S Night; The Fairy-Tale, Which Her Weird Fancy 'Spells With All The Glamour Of Her Soul'S Delight: Before The Summoning Sorcery Of Her Eyes Making Her SpirIt's Dream Materialize.