 | Here be blue and white violets from the garden wherein grew meadowsweet |  |
[Dear Maid, to whom I sent last year]
Dear Maid, to whom I sent last year
My Meadowsweet.
By blossoms asking thee to hear,
In hours of wheat
And staring poppies, all I need—
My love's unswerving cross and creed
My Meadowsweet.
By blossoms asking thee to hear,
In hours of wheat
And staring poppies, all I need—
My love's unswerving cross and creed
Take, for a pity comes again,
These Violets.
Scentless, perchance, and torn by rain
When rain forgets
On angry days to spare the soft
Green stem that bears the blue aloft
These Violets.
Scentless, perchance, and torn by rain
When rain forgets
On angry days to spare the soft
Green stem that bears the blue aloft
So let my flowers come to thee
In sweet content;
And may thy heart one moment be
Their firmament.
That when they fade, at fair things must,
No god shall rank them common dust
In sweet content;
And may thy heart one moment be
Their firmament.
That when they fade, at fair things must,
No god shall rank them common dust
| Here be blue and white violets from the garden wherein grew meadowsweet | |