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Excerpt from Verses

From road to field, from field to road again, Pathetic reckoning of each mile they stray They leave in flowers forgotten by the way Forgotten, dying, but not all in vain, Since finding them, with tender smiles, half pain, Half Joy, we sigh, Some child passed here to-day. Dear one, whose name I name not lest some tongue Pronounce it roughly, like a little child Tired out at noon, I left my flowers among The wayside things. I know how thou hast smiled, And that the thought of them will always be One more sweet secret thing 'twixt thee and me.

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