My love gave me a passion-flower.
I nursed it well—so brief its hour!
My eyelids ache, my throat is dry:
He told me that it would not die.
My love and I are one, and yet
Full oft my cheeks with tears are wet—
So sweet the night is and the bower!
My love gave me a passion-flower.
So sweet! Hold fast my hands. Can God
Make all this joy revert to sod,
And leave to me but this for dower—
My love gave me a passion-flower.
Margaret Fuller [1871-
NORAH
I knew his house by the poplar-trees,
Green and silvery in the breeze;
"A heaven-high hedge," were the words he said,
"And holly-hocks, pink and white and red...."
It seemed so far from McChesney's Hall—
Where first he told me about it all.
A long path runs inside from the gate,—
He still can take it, early or late;