Flower-gathering

nor yet in any spur it may be to ambition.
I LEFT you in the morning, 
And in the morning glow, 
You walked a way beside me 
To make me sad to go. 

Do you know me in the gloaming, 
Gaunt and dusty grey with roaming? 
Are you dumb because you know me not, 
Or dumb because you know? 

All for me? And not a question 
For the faded flowers gay 
That could take me from beside you 
For the ages of a day? 

They are yours, and be the measure 
Of their worth for you to treasure, 
The measure of the little while 
That I've been long away.