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43

PAX VOBISCUM

I

I know that from thine eyes
The Spring her violets grew;
Those bits of April skies,
On which the green turf lies,
Whereon they blossom blue.

II

I know that Summer wrought
From thy sweet heart that rose,
With such faint fragrance fraught,—
Its pale, poetic thought
Of peace and deep repose.—

III

That Autumn, like some god,
From thy delicious hair,—
Lost sunlight 'neath the sod,—
Shot up this goldenrod
To toss it everywhere.
44

IV

That Winter from thy breast
The snowdrop's whiteness stole—
Much kinder than the rest—
Thy innocence confessed,
The pureness of thy soul.
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