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!

Lizette Woodworth Reese, After