MILKWEED

The blue, blue sea,

And the drone of waves,

And the wheeling swallows,

And the sun on the opal sails,

And the misty and salt-bleached headlands,

And the milkweed thick at my feet,

And the milkweed held in the hand of a child

Who dreams on the misty cliff-edge,

Watching the fading sails

And the noonday blue

Of the lonely sea!

Was it all years ago,

Or was it but yesterday?

I only know that the scent

Of the milkweed brings it back,

Back with a strangle of tears:

The child and the misty headlands,

The drone of the dark blue sea,

And the opal sails

In the sun!