If I am slow forgetting,
It is because the sun
Has such old tricks of setting
When April days are done.
The soft spring sunlight traces
Old patterns--green and gold;
The flowers have no new faces,
The very buds are old!
If I am slow forgetting--
Ah, well, come back and see
The same old sunbeams petting
My garden-plots and me.
Come smell the green things growing,
The boxwood after rain;
See where old beds are showing
Their slender spears again.
At dusk, that fosters dreaming--
Come back at dusk and rest,
And watch our old star gleaming
Against the primrose west.
_Harper’s_ _Margaret Lee Ashley_