ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.

THE South is a dream of flowers

With a jewel for sky and sea,

Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,

Gold fruits upon every tree;

But cold from the North

The wind blows forth

That blows my love to me.

The stars in the South are gold

Like lamps between sky and sea;

The flowers that the forests hold

Like stars between tree and tree;

But little and white

Is the pale moon's light

That lights my love to me.

In the South the orange grove

Makes dusk by the dusky sea,

White palaces wrought for love

Gleam white between tree and tree,

But under bare boughs

Is the little house

Warm-lit for my love and me.