I Left Behind The Ways Of Care, The Crowded Hurrying Hours, I Breathed Again The Woodland Air, I Plucked The Woodland Flowers: Bluebells As Yet But Half Awake, Primroses Pale And Cool, Anemones Like Stars That Shake In A Green Twilight Pool-- On These Still Lay The Enchanted Shade, The Magic April Sun; With My Own Child A Child I Strayed And Thought The Years Were One. As Through The Copse She Went And Came My Senses Lost Their Truth; I Called Her By The Dear Dead Name That Sweetened All My Youth.