  If I am slow forgetting, It is because the sun Has such old tricks of setting When April days are done. The soft spring sunlight traces Old patterns—green and gold; The flowers have no new faces, The very buds are old! If I am slow forgetting— Ah, well, come back and see The same old sunbeams petting My garden-plots and me. Come smell the green things growing, The boxwood after rain; See where old beds are showing Their slender spears again. At dusk, that fosters dreaming— Come back at dusk and rest, And watch our old star gleaming Against the primrose west. Harper’s Margaret Lee Ashley |
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