A Recollection.
IN my heart there is a fragrance not of bursting buds or bloom,
But a faint delicious essence floats as out of memory’s room.
Like a zephyr blown from heaven some sweet message to impart,
Comes a fragile recollection down the by-path to my heart.
Fragile did I say? So fragile that the lace-wrought butterfly
Would not tilt its wings to bear it back from earth into the sky.
Yet perplexed as to its mission down the pathway I retreat,