55771: Celandine

<p dir="ltr"> Thinking of her had saddened me at first,<br> Until I saw the sun on the celandines lie<br> Redoubled, and she stood up like a flame,<br> A living thing, not what before I nursed,<br> The shadow I was growing to love almost,<br> The phantom, not the creature with bright eye<br> That I had thought never to see, once lost.<br> She found the celandines of February<br> Always before us all. Her nature and name<br> Were like those flowers, and now immediately<br> For a short swift eternity back she came,<br> Beautiful, happy, simply as when she wore<br> Her brightest bloom among the winter hues<br> Of all the world; and I was happy too,<br> Seeing the blossoms and the maiden who<br> Had seen them with me Februarys before,<br> Bending to them as in and out she trod<br> And laughed, with locks sweeping the mossy sod.<br> But this was a dream: the flowers were not true,<br> Until I stooped to pluck from the grass there<br> One of five petals and I smelt the juice<br> Which made me sigh, remembering she was no more,<br> Gone like a never perfectly recalled air.<br></p>