A pretty tune!

Wind with your weight of perfume,
Bring me the bluebells' bloom!




QUINCE TO LILAC: To G. H.


Dear _Lilac_, how enchanting
To hear of you this way!
The Man who comes a-mouching
To visit me each day

Says you too have a lover
Far lovelier than I.
And from his rapt description,
She loves you gloriously.

The Man prowls out each morning
To see if spring's begun.
What infinite amusement
These creatures offer one!

He asks me such conundrums
As no one ever heard:
The name of April's father,
The trail of every bird,