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After

Lizette Woodworth Reese

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!
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.

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