Revenente

The bells of memory sound this summer day Down the long alleys of the blue-skied years; Shy cowslip, thyme, the haunting scent of hay, Pleached gardens nourished by a lover's tears, And honeysuckle, shy maid in the hedge, Are all Her handmaids; blessed is the sight The mirror-pool caught of Her. So the stage Is set for entrance, and a girl in white Walks in my heart again, out of pale death, Kingdom of shrivelled mouth and powdering bone, Touching my cheek with flower-laden breath, And whispering, 'Poor love, and still alone?' Was any man so lucky, dear God? It will be dawn before She takes the road.