O wet green winter grass,
Sodden and chill with rain,
There are some footsteps that will never pass
Along the fields again.
O fresh blue air of Spring,
When lights lie long upon the slope,
There are two eyes to which you cannot bring
Your lights of youth and hope.
O white syringa-tree,
Year in, year out, below your feet
There is one heart to all eternity
That will not stir nor beat.
❦