Yours was the faith of woman, dearest child.
Your eyes—Centaurea Cyavus—
Saw what I saw not nigh to us,
And that, I knew, was why you smiled,
When the Montana Pendula swung wild.
I knew you smiled, thinking of suns to come,
Seeing in snowflakes on bare trees
Solanum Jasminoïdes—
Seeing ere Winter's voice was dumb,
The peeping pink Mesembrianthium.