There you are.

It must be….

It is you,

On the small

Of the horizon,


Yellow, pink and white

Subtle in the mist

Far off,

Down the path.

Can it be

Too joyous?

I ask—-

The memory

Of you.

In this dream of wild

Bright yellow mustard,


Long rows

Of leafless vines




 The moss-green


Of gold-orange


Patched through

Silver grass.


Pearl white pussy-willows,

Pale catkins

Hanging down.

Star flowers

With lavender phlox

And snow-drops

All around.

And there,

In the gentle water

The sound

Of your musical voice.

It is spring my dear,

And here,

I am without you,

Beyond the flows

Of brook and time.


Dear Janet,

You will be my Valentine

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