A December Day

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Blue, blue is the sea to-day,
  Warmly the light
  Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay -
  Blue, fringed with white.

  That's no December sky!
  Surely 'tis June
  Holds now her state on high,
  Queen of the noon.

  Only the tree-tops bare
  Crowning the hill,
  Clear-cut in perfect air,
  Warn us that still

  Winter, the aged chief,
  Mighty in power,
  Exiles the tender leaf,
  Exiles the flower.

  Is there a heart to-day,
  A heart that grieves
  For flowers that fade away,
  For fallen leaves?

  Oh, not in leaves or flowers
  Endures the charm
  That clothes those naked towers
  With love-light warm.

  O dear St. Andrews Bay,
  Winter or Spring
  Gives not nor takes away
  Memories that cling

  All round thy girdling reefs,
  That walk thy shore,
  Memories of joys and griefs
  Ours evermore.

© Robert Fuller Murray