By Nora May French

The blue wisteria hangs with bloom
            The Place of Memories far away.
My heart has ached with it today—
The blue wisteria is in bloom.

And one may pass so near, so near,
With half-remembering eyes and cold,
Where quickening with the budding year
It clusters perfect as of old;

And one at sight of wizened sprays,
Reluctant in an alien spring,
Must feel the sharp, unblunted sting,
The pang of unforgotten days.