Chapter XIV: The Aster

The little vagrant gypsy flower
Has blossomed forth again--
Your face against the autumn sky,
Your face against the rain.

The fevered youth of summer days
Has passed away in tears.
The aged winter totters down
The pathway of the years.

Yet, nodding, luring, laughing o'er
The tired world's pain and scars,
Joyous I find between my hands
Your face--in aster stars.