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.