Page:Preludes, Meynell, 1875.djvu/62

38 Of one daisy 'mid the centuries of sun;

Of a little living nun

In the garden of the years.

Yes, I am not far astray;

But I guess you as might one

Pausing when young March is grey,

In a violet-peopled day;

All his thoughts go out to places that he knew,

To his child-home in the sun,

To the fields of his regret,

To one place i' the innocent March air,

By one olive, and invent

The familiar form and scent

Safely; a white violet

Certainly is there.

Soeur Monique, remember me.

'Tis not in the past alone

I am picturing you to be;

But my little friend, my own,

In my moment, pray for me.