When at evening in the vale I walk, Wrapt in memories of dear Lucille; When among the violets I lie, All my hours of love before me steal. Earth and heaven was this maid to me, And her voice the song of lark and wren; Now that she hath left my heart I know Through the love of women God makes men. If in distant countries I should dwell With a people strange and proudly cold, I would always see my long lost love In the heart of dying marigold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR LORD AND OUR LADY by HILAIRE BELLOC MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH AN EXPLANATION by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GULF by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MAGRADY GRAHAM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |