Poem: A Larch in the Tatra (please comment)

Her rust rosettes were veiled in pure, soft snow.
Weeping she said,
‘Write for me!’

And because I loved her
and she was alone
and with no voice
I wrote,

‘I wait in the dark green forest of spruce and pine
till spring to give you:
bursting rosettes of young love,
joy in new life,
then summer sun and sparkling waterfall,
your princess of The Emerald Lake.’

‘Now, too soon the lake is frozen
and white with snow.
Icicles grow by the waterfall
And my needles lie on the snow.’