And soon, because I dearly love to eat
And cook, the passersby
Would note a homely row of colored pots
Upon my window sill. Small homey pots of
Green herbs growing, with the foretaste
Of spring upon them.
Before long, indeed, would
Spring, herself, not come?

My tiny bird would almost sing
Himself into another world;
And little cat, bathing in the sun,
Be done with fireside sitting.
What of me? I would be lifting my
Head high, and breathing deeply of the
Fresh smell... always attuned to that
Life-giving season, I should sigh:

"Come, live with me and be my love..."
You see, I truly know myself!
This small sweet place which I
Acquire to be alone in, I now proceed
To populate!