By Chivalries as tiny,
A Blossom, or a Book,
The seeds of smiles are planted –
Which blossom in the dark.
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I keep my pledge.
I was not called –
Death did not notice me.
I bring my Rose.
I plight again,
By every sainted Bee –
By Daisy called from hillside –
by Bobolink from lane.
Blossom and I –
Her oath, and mine –
Will surely come again.
When I count the seeds
That are sown beneath,
To bloom so, bye and bye –
When I con the people
Lain so low,
To be received as high –
When I believe the garden
Mortal shall not see –
Pick by faith its blossom
And avoid its Bee,
I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.
Keeping Up with Emily
