That matters much, save that it seemed I thought
I wandered dim with some one, but I knew
Not whom; most beautiful, and young, and true,
And pale through suffering: with curl-crowned brow
Soft eyes and voice, so strange, they haunt me now—
A dream, perhaps, in dreamland.
Seemed that she
Led me along a flower-showered lea
Trammeled with puckered pansy and the pea;
Where poppies spread great blood-red stain on stain,