POEMS, POETS, RHYMES AND POETRY

I saw thee once- once only- years ago: I must not say how many- but not many. It was a July midnight; and from out A full-orbed moon, that like thine own soul soaring, Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven, There fell a silvery silken veil of light, With quietude, and sultriness and slumber, Upon the upturn’d faces of a thousand Roses that grew in an enchanted garden, Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe- Fell on the upturn’d faces of these roses That gave

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