Wild honey from various thyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

After long sickness she is growing well:
We drive together through an open space
Of plain, of forest; and I see her face
Peer from its muffling cloak, as the pure bell
From the bog-turf of tender pimpernel.
So frail, so coarsely wrapped, save for some trace
Of azure round the hat, no summer grace.
The terror of a love immeasurable!
Should tempest overtake her!—Even now
It overtakes. Beneath the azure knot,
Piercing the veil, to see, set in the rear
Of that great storm, her wonderful, most clear,
Clear eyes, athwart their blue a single spot;
And the air lighted from her cheek, her brow.