"My soul and your soul are forever tangled" (N.R. Hart) How can I forget that springtime day, When we skirted the open meadow, Light of step and hands ardently clasped As the swollen branches overhead, Threshed uneasily in the rising wind? How we joyously laughed when a spray Of lilac blossom, like scented rain of falling flowers Descended carelessly on your auburn head, How playfully you shook your hair Loosening the blossoms from gold-brown tresses Laughing and running in the brisk breeze, And sprinkling the footway with a lilac turf.
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