Columbine

The light comes back with Columbine; she brings

A touch of this, a little touch of that,

Coloured confetti, and a favour hat,

Patches, and powder, dolls that work by strings

And moons that work by switches, all the things

That please a sick man's fancy, and a flat

Spry convalescent kiss, and a small pat

Upon the pillow, paper offerings.

The light goes out with her; the shadows sprawl.

Where she has left her fragrance like a shawl

I lie alone and pluck the counterpane,

Or on a dizzy elbow rise and hark

And down like dominoes along the dark

Her little silly laughter spills again!