You promised to send me some violets. Did you forget?

White ones and blue ones from under the orchard hedge?

Sweet dark purple, and white ones mixed for a pledge

Of our early love that hardly has opened yet.

Here there’s an almond tree—you have never seen

Such a one in the north—it flowers on the street, and I stand

Every day by the fence to look up for the flowers that expand

At rest in the blue, and wonder at what they mean.

Under the almond tree, the happy lands

Provence, Japan, and Italy repose,

And passing feet are chatter and clapping of those

Who play around us, country girls clapping their hands.

You, my love, the foremost, in a flowered gown,

All your unbearable tenderness, you with the laughter

Startled upon your eyes now so wide with here-after,

You with loose hands of abandonment hanging down.