the wonder never went out of her eyes

when she saw the sweep of our wide blue skies,

the things we farmers forget in the pain

of sowing and planting and reaping again.

things taken for granted loose the touch

of newness and dazzle we love so much.

while she, soft-eyed and with shining face,

found pleasure in all things about the place.

she gathered the flowers in wind and rain

that we called common and tho’t real plain.

from the sweep of our lawn to the poppy bed

flaunting their colors about her head.

till we ourselves looked with glad new eyes

on an old, old setting, but a new sunrise.

cold grey days she would rise and sing

for she found beauty in everything.

will she ever know in the city street

how we think of her when the snow and sleet,

make houses enjoyable things to own,

how often we mention her name at home?{23}

can she ever know with her warm flower heart,

how she gave us back what we lost in part.

how the thought of her when it’s cold with rain,

fills the house and the halls, with herself again.