‘ Twas just at sundown, when the leaves were wet
With evening dew,
Far in the fields where sky and violet
Blend rifts of blue —
But for a moment, deep among the flowers
And rain-sweet grass,
I saw her — loved her — and as April showers
Beheld her pass.
O, the lone vastness of the afterglow,
Unknown before;
Shall e'er I see that face where violets grow,
Perchance, once more!
Yet no one comes save night, with wild regrets
And silent pain —
Only sometimes the scent of violets
On wind-blown rain.