The Trespasser Poem by Ben Belitt

When last we came this pleasant way
The hedgerows blossomed, high and hard,
And blue with shade the violets lay
In every cherry-lightened yard.

Now, in commemorative rain,
I walk the quiet way alone,
And there are violets again
As blue as I have ever known.

Useless to barricade the flesh
To splendid branch and flower-row:
I see the cherry, flaked and fresh,
And smell the violet as I go

Perplexed past wetted flowerbed
And boxwood glimmering into leaf,
Companionless, disquieted,
And fearfully as any thief—

Smarting of some sacrilege
Too profligate to understand,
As one who disavows a pledge
And treads repudiated land.