After

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 The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.