I\'ll send to you in France, my dear,

A box with treasures in it:

The patch of sky that meets our hill

And changes every minute,

The grape-vine that you taught to grow—

My pansies young with dew,

The plum-tree by the kitchen door—

These things I\'ll send to you.

I\'ll pack with care our fragile dawn—

The dawn we laughed to greet;

I\'ll send the comfort of the grass

That once caressed your feet.

No yearning love of mine I\'ll send

To tear your heart in two—

Just earth-peace—home-peace—still and strong—

These t............