Pax Vobiscum

I

I know that from thine eyes
The Spring her violets grew;
Those bits of April skies,
On which the green turf lies,
Whereon they blossom blue.

II

I know that Summer wrought
From thy sweet heart that rose,
With such faint fragrance fraught,--
Its pale, poetic thought
Of peace and deep repose.--

III

That Autumn, like some god,
From thy delicious hair,--
Lost sunlight 'neath the sod,--
Shot up this goldenrod
To toss it everywhere.

IV

That Winter from thy breast
The snowdrop's whiteness stole--
Much kinder than the rest--
Thy innocence confessed,
The pureness of thy soul.