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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TEMPTRESS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON NATURA NATURANS by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH THE BABIE by JEREMIAH EAMES RANKIN THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 49. WILLOWWOOD (1) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ON THE COLLAR OF MRS. DINGLEY'S LAP-DOG by JONATHAN SWIFT |