A MEMORY
Ah, dear! how memory stirs,
Of meadows and soft-voiced thrushes
Of winds that sang amid firs,
Or piped on the cool, damp rushes.
Of twilights and early dawns,
And times when the earth is fairest;
Of gardens with dewy lawns,
And flowers when their scent is rarest.
Of noontide and humming bees,
That gather the love of roses;
Of night-time and sighing trees,
And clouds where the moon reposes.
And, dearest,—of just we two,
Alone in this world of splendour,
Where everything lived for you,
In glorious, sweet surrender.