Milkweed

The blue, blue sea, And the drone of waves, And the wheeling swallows, And the sun on the opal sails, And the misty and salt-bleached headlands, And the milkweed thick at my feet, And the milkweed held in the hand of a child Who dreams on the misty cliff-edge, Watching the fading sails And the noonday blue Of the lonely sea!

Was it all years ago, Or was it but yesterday? I only know that the scent Of the milkweed brings it back, Back with a strangle of tears: The child and the misty headlands, The drone of the dark blue sea, And the opal sails In the sun!