O wet green winter grass, Sodden and chill with rain, There are some footsteps that will never pass Along the fields again.
O fresh blue air of Spring, When lights lie long upon the slope, There are two eyes to which you cannot bring Your lights of youth and hope.
O white syringa-tree, Year in, year out, below your feet There is one heart to all eternity That will not stir nor beat.
❦