The Snow-Blossoms

by Clark Ashton Smith


	But yestereve the winter trees
	Reared leafless, blackly bare,
	Their twigs and branches poignant-marked
	Upon the sunset-flare.

	White-petaled, opens now the dawn,
	And in its pallid glow,
	Revealed, each leaf-lorn, barren tree
	Stands white with flowers of snow.