Classic Poem

When crystalline December
Has purified the year
The sky is like a window pane
And cruelly too clear.

Beneath such magic brightness
Things simply are not so—
The moon and stars are tinsel
And tinsel is the snow.

Since night and frosty weather
Are glitteringly untrue
I turn for reillusion,
My pretty dear, to you.

Though you and I are tinsel
Upon this Eden tree
Our silver joy and sorrow
Seem genuine to me:

So keep your scissored profile
Turned artfully and set
And I shan't have to see you
As merely silhouette—

More warm than winter's planets
Are fire and candle light—
Mr. and Mrs. Tinsel
Will be at home to-night!