Sonnet

Each time we meet, my dear, I fancy you,
A maiden both familiar and strange,
For still I see a girl I never knew
And see my own dear love without a change;
And while young love is born within my heart,
As on his birthday half a year ago,
I mourn that we are kept so long apart.
And welcome joyfully the love I know.
As when a rover under foreign skies
From some clear hill beholds a smiling plain.
And long-forgotten meadows meet his eyes.
And memory awakens in his brain,
And suddenly he sees with glad surprise
The open doorway of his home again.

Oxford, 1913