Explore "Trailing Arbutus" by Annie Fellows Johnston on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THERE may be hearts that lie so deep / 'Neath griefs and cares that weigh like drifted snow, / That love seems chilled in endless sleep, / And budding hopes may never dare to grow.
Yet under all, some memory / Trails its arbutus flowers of tender thought, -- / All buried in the snow maybe, / Still with the sweetest fragrance fraught.