when you are twining wreaths of rose and columbine

to soften outlines of a tomb too new,

remember, spring makes little tents all green and cool

for soldier boys this old world never knew.

when spring comes tripping down the lane once more

and children bring you violets of blue,

when your tender heart is strained, beyond the breaking

let this be my farewell, dear heart, to you.

when spring comes romping, singing, back again,

dressed in her garments fragrant, fresh and new;

when once more robins sing among the budding trees

all honey sweet, with apple blooms and dew.{27}

when you have searched the woods as once you did

for specimens of moss and long, dank fern,

remember, that i too have loved the flowers

but, look no more, no more for my return.