... 

The sudden Thought of your Face is like a Wound
          When it comes unsought
On some scent of Jasmin, Lilies, or pale Tuberose.
Any one of the sweet fragrant flowers,
Flowers I used to love and lay in your hair.

Sunset is terribly sad. I saw you stand
Tall against the red and the gold like a slender palm;
The light wind stirred your hair as you waved your hand,
Waved farewell, as ever, serene and calm,
To me, the passion-wearied and tost and torn,
Riding down the road in the gathering grey.
          Since that day
The sunset red is empty, the gold forlorn.

 ...