When cold December
Froze to grisamber
The jangling bells on the sweet rose-trees-
Then fading slow
And furred is the snow
As the almond's sweet husk-
And smelling like musk.
The snow amygdaline
Under the eglantine
Where the bristling stars shine
Like a gilt porcupine-
The snow confesses
The little Princesses
On their small chioppines
Dance under the orpines.
See the casuistries
Of their slant fluttering eyes-
Gilt as the zodiac
(Dancing Herodiac).
Only the snow slides
Like gilded myrrh-
From the rose-branches-hides
Rose-roots that stir.