Flower of the vine!
I scarcely knew or saw how love began;
So mean a flower brings forth the sweetest wine!
* * * * *
O mandolines that thrill the moonlit street,
O lemon flowers so faint and freshly blown,
O seas that lap a solemn music sweet
Through all the pallid night against the stone,
O lovers tramping past with happy feet,
O heart that hast a memory of thine own—
For Mercy’s sake no more, no more repeat
The word it is so hard to hear alone!
* * * * *
Flowers in the hay!
My heart and all the fields are full of flowers;
So tall they grow before the mowing-day.