Poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese

After

OH, the littles that remain!
Scent of mint out in the lane;
Flare of window; sound of bees; --
These, but these.

Three times sitting down to bread;
One time climbing up to bed;
Table-setting o'er and o'er;
Drying herbs for winter's store;
This thing; that thing; -- nothing more.

But just now out in the lane,
Oh, the scent of mint was plain!

1. Herbs
2. A Song for Candlemas
3. Mid-March
4. Lydia is gone this many a year
5. Oh, gray and tender is the rain

Robert Browning After ("Take the cloak from his face, and at first")

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