Homeward through flowers: she speaks.

O simple offerings of the common hills; Love's lowly names, that make you trebly sweet! One Johnny-jump-up, but an apron-full Of starry crowfoot, making mossy dells Dim with heaven's morning blue; dew-dripping plumes Of waxen "dog-mouths"; red the tippling cups Of gypsy-lilies all along the creek, Where dull the freckled silence sleeps, and dark The water runs when, at high noon, the cows Wade knee-deep and the heat hums drowsy with The drone of dizzy flies;—one Samson-flower Blue-streaked and crystal as a summer's cloud; White violets, milk-weed, scarlet Indian-pinks, All fragile-scented and familiar as Pink baby faces and blue infant eyes.

O fair suggestions of a life more fair! Love's fragrant whispers of an untaught faith, High habitations 'neath a godlier blue Beyond the sin of Earth, in heavens prepared— What is it?—halcyon to utter calm, Faith? such as wrinkled wisdom, doubting, has Yearned for and sought in miser'd lore of worlds, And vainly?—Love?—Oh, have I learned to live?