Nor know day’s joined with day, nor week with week.
And then some word you said to me comes back,
Some little word you whispered long ago,
And I forget my grief and wake to know
The miracle the rolling year brings back,
The miracle of joy one word can bring—
That one small violet can make a Spring.
VII
To Spain, Good Stranger? There it is you go!
I pray you then seek out one that I knew