rills run in the walks; the prodigal wealth of spring is scattered and the
scent and song of yesterday are wrecked.

Yet stay a while; let me find some remnant flowers, though I doubt if your
skirt can be filled.

The time will be short, for the clouds thicken and here comes the rain
again!



16


I forgot myself for a moment, and I came.

But raise your eyes, and let me know if there still linger some shadow of
other days, like a pale cloud on the horizon that has been robbed of its
rain.

For a moment bear with me if I forget myself.


The roses are still in bud; they do not yet know how we neglect to gather
flowers this summer.

The morning star has the same palpitating hush; the early light is enmeshed
in the branches that overbrow your window, as in those other days.

That times are changed I forget for a little, and have come.