I remember pinkfire azaleas
And the dogwood’s floating white
And the warm and slanting sunbeams
of the living Virginia light.
Try to write! And I tried to rise
Still the clogs were on my feet
And the wings of depressed angels
About my downcast eyebrows beat
Sheila came and I not ready
So I lost my happinesses
Mystic moons her twin blue eyes
Amid the cascade of her tresses.
Virginia, speak of me softly then
Your time with me then cherish
I keep with me your memory
Until at last I perish.