The Flowers Of The Field Have A Sweet Smell; Meadowsweet, Tansy, Thyme, And Faint-Heart Pimpernel; But Sweeter Even Than These, The Silver Of The May Wreathed Is With Incense For The Judgment Day. An Apple, A Child, Dust, When Falls The Evening Rain, Wild Briar'S Spic'D Leaves, Breathe Memories Again; With Further Memory Fraught, The Silver Of The May Wreathed Is With Incense For The Judgment Day. Eyes Of All Loveliness - Shadow Of Strange Delight, Even As A Flower Fades Must Thou From Sight; But Oh, O'Er Thy Grave'S Mound, Till Come The Judgment Day, Wreathed Shall With Incense Be Thy Sharp-Thorned May.