12.

Though the dog-tooth violet come With the shower, And the wild-bee haunt and hum Every flower, We shall never wend as when Love laughed leading us from men Over violet vale and glen, Where the red-bird sang an hour, And we heard the partridge drum.

Here October shadows pray, Till one stills Joyance, where for buried May Sob the rills: So love's vision has arisen Of the long ago: I listen— Memory, tears in eyes that glisten Points but Indiana hills Fading dark-blue far away.