Margaret E. Sangster / Margaret ESangster
'The window box across the streetIs filled with scarlet flowers;They glow, like bits of sunset cloud,Across the dragging hours.What though the mist be like a shroudWhat though the day be dreary?The window box across the streetIs warm, and gay, and cheery!The window box across the streetIs filled with scarlet flowers;I almost catch their perfume sweet.Above the sound of tramping feet,They sing of country bowers.Against the house that looms so gray,They smile in-well, a friendly way.'