christmas poetry

let us plant
i can not tell you now
though love repine, and reason chafe
be not false
do not grieve that it is over
over the river, on the hill
glooms of the live-oaks
perhaps
he came and took me by the hand
night is dark, and the winter winds
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
her face is fair and smooth and fine
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night