PAX VOBISCUM.
Reading edition
1 Her violets in thine eyes The Springtide stained I know, Two bits of mystic skies On which the green turf lies, Whereon the violets blow. 2 I know the Summer wrought From thy sweet heart that rose, With that faint fragrance fraught, Its sad poetic thought Of peace and deep repose. 3 That Autumn, like some god, From thy delicious hair— Lost sunlight 'neath the sod Shot up this golden-rod To toss it everywhere. 4 That Winter from thy breast The snowdrop's whiteness stole— Much kinder than the rest— Thy innocence confessed, The pureness of thy soul.