| The tall black locust on the hill
Broke into bloom the night you came; Its lonesome fragrance haunts me still, And though I seldom speak your name I know that now life never will Be quite the same- not quite the same. Why should a flower's perfume recall Your upturned face so vividly? Why should your voice's rise and fall Come clearly back tonight to me? And why should some things come at all And pass, yet never cease to be? A sudden sense of warmth and light Throughout the room your presence shed; And still do I recall outright Each passing, trivial word you said. When you passed out into the night You left a glory in your stead. And now once more that honeyed tree Is fragrant with its waxen bloom, And every night wind brings to me The spring's elusive, faint perfume, But can such glory ever be Again within this little room? |
The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)
Page 64
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