Doves by the broken fountain in the square
Cooed at her small brown feet.
There was wide sky and love and laughter there,
And the soft wind was sweet;
The long days ran, like little children, free
In that blue, sunny air,
Life did not labor hushed and measuredly,
There was not gold or care.
The close heat pulsed, unsweetened by the sun,
And the blind walls again