Thinking of her had saddened me at first,
Until I saw the sun on the celandines
Redoubled, and she stood up like a flame,
A living thing, not what before I nursed,
The shadow I was growing to love almost,
The phantom, not the creature with bright
That I had thought never to see, once lost.
She found the celandines of
Always before us all.
Her nature and
Were like those flowers, and now
For a short swift eternity back she came,
Beautiful, happy, simply as when she
Her brightest bloom among the winter
Of all the world; and I was happy too,
Seeing the blossoms and the maiden
Had seen them with me February's before,
Bending to them as in and out she
And laughed, with locks sweeping the mossy sod.
But this was a dream; the flowers were not true,
Until I stooped to pluck from the grass
One of five petals and I smelt the
Which made me sigh, remembering she was no more,
Gone like a never perfectly recalled air.
