The Song Of The Chrysanthemum

 

At last I have come to my throne.

No more, despised and unknown,

In gardens forlorn

My blossoms are born;

No more in some corner obscure

Do I drearily, sadly endure

The withering blight

Of neglect and of slight;

Oh, long have I waited and late,

For this fair and slow-coming fate,

Which the years have foretold

As they sighingly rolled.

Oh, long have I waited and lone;

But at last, on my blossomy throne,

The world doth declare

I am fairest of fair,

And queen of the autumn I reign,

With a sway that none may disdain,-

I, once who did stand,

Despised in the land.

"The Song Of The Chrysanthemum"

Nora Perry

(1831-1896)

American poet, newspaper correspondent

and writer of juvenile fiction

"Woman Cloaked In Red Among The White Chrysanthemums"
Oil on Canvas 

(1901)

Jean Beaudin
(1851-1916)
Belgian painter