164 AMY LOWELL
��"No," I told him.
"See that the messenger takes some refreshment.
No, no answer."
And I walked into the garden,
Up and down the patterned paths,
In my stiff, correct brocade.
The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in
the sun. Each one.
I stood upright too, Held rigid to the pattern By the stiffness of my gown. Up and down I walked, Up and down.
In a month he would have been my husband.
In a month, here, underneath this lime,
We would have broke the pattern ;
He for me, and I for him.
He as Colonel, I as Lady,
On this shady seat.
He had a whim
That sunlight carried blessing.
And I answered, " It shall be as you have said."
Now he is dead.
In Summer and in Winter I shall walk Up and down
�� �
