Page:Our Poets of Today (1918).djvu/41

As they please.
And I weep;
For the lime tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.
. . . . . . .
Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin,
A basin in the midst of hedges grown
So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding,
But she guesses he is near,
. . . . . . .
I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,
And he would stumble after,
Bewildered by my laughter.
I should see the sun flashing from his sword hilt and the buckles on his shoes,
I would choose
To lead him in a maze along the patterned paths.
A bright and laughing maze for my heavy booted lover,
Till he caught me in the shade,
And the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me,
Aching, melting, unafraid.

Underneath the fallen blossoms
In my bosom,
Is a letter I have hid.
It was brought to me this morning by a rider from the Duke.
"Madam, we regret to inform you that Lord Hartwell
Died in action Thursday sen'night."