When the long day has faded to its end

When the long day has faded to its end,
The flowers gone, and all the singing done,
And there is no companion left save Death--
Ah! there is one,
Though in her grave she lies this many a year,
Will send a violet made of her blue eyes,
A flowering whisper of her April breath,
Up through the sleeping grass to comfort me,
And in the April rain her tears shall fall.