Chrysanthemums Poem by Frank Samuel Williamson

When Autumn, mother of the Spring,
Her days of waiting, numbering,
Walks musing in my garden ways,
While scarlet robins chant her praise;
Gay hosts of Oriental flowers
Mass their battalions in my bowers.
Each year they make a sudden raid,
And take me in an ambuscade;
Here on parole I must remain
Their captive through the whole campaign.
What shall I fear from foes like these,
Who use their weapons but to please?
And what stern patriot cares to ban
These sweet invaders from Japan?
The solemn gum-tree standing by,
Allows their gorgeous ensigns nigh,
And skirmishing when gnats appear,
The fantail loves to linger near.
The English thrush sees their review,
Keeping to his alliance true,
He bayonets many a stealthy snail,
And strips the foemen of their mail.
The South wind, careless freelance comes
To serve with my chrysanthemums,
And dancing with the geisha girls,
Despoils them of their morning pearls,
Ah! geisha girls! not long you stay;
You vanish with the Samurai,
Before a fusillade of rain.
Your dreams of conquest swiftly wane,
While polar blasts your banners tear,
Leaving the poles a moment bare,
Till prostrate in the sodden clay,
Lies vanquished all your proud array.