| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 48. On Snow-Flakes melting on His Lady’s Breast |
| | | By William Martin Johnson |
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| TO kiss my Celia’s fairer breast, | |
| The snow forsakes its native skies, | |
| But proving an unwelcome guest, | |
| It grieves, dissolves in tears, and dies. | |
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| Its touch, like mine, but serves to wake | 5 |
| Through all her frame a death-like chill,— | |
| Its tears, like those I shed, to make | |
| That icy bosom colder still. | |
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| I blame her not; from Celia’s eyes | |
| A common fate beholders proved— | 10 |
| Each swain, each fair one, weeps and dies,— | |
| With envy these, and those with love! | |
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