Verse and Reverse (1921)/Potpourri

The cool fresh scent of lavender
Enfolds the twilight air;
And from the dust of violets
There drifts a perfume rare.
The crumpled rose-leaves seem to stir
And tenderly uncurl—
Ah, long and long ago they bloomed
When Grandma was a girl.

Across the gleaming firelit floor
The shadows come and go,
The ghosts of maids and gallants gay
Who tripped it to and fro,
In those dim days of sturdy coach
And curls and fluttering fan,
When Grandma gave with blushes deep
Three waltzes to one man.

There comes the swish of silken skirts,
The rush of flying feet—
Ah, Youth and Gayety of old,
Your very dust is sweet.
The firelight dies, the dance is o'er,
The old blue jar I see—
Then gently falls the lid again
Upon the potpourri.