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.

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