Enough
Did he forget? . . . I do not remember,
All I had of him once I still have to-day;
He was lovely to me as the word, ‘amber,’
As the taste of honey and the smell of hay.
What if he forget if I remember?
What more of love have you than I to say?
I have and hold him still in the word, ‘amber,’
Taste of honey brings him, he comes back with the hay.
