Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/15



" hath made many bards, she is so lovely;"

But in the South's bright clime, of which I speak,

Night holds her court in glory. There she seems

To center all her softness and her light,

To make a focus of her loveliness;

And weaving in her dark veil myriad stars,

Blending their clear light with the softer beams

Of a most queenly moon, she strives to make

Atonement for the burning glare of day

With such a world of sweetness, poetry,

Flowers and perfume, witching light and shade,

Murmuring music, and soft falling dew,

As would have made a gala-night in Eden.

'Twas such a night as this, when o'er the earth

Stole every form of loveliness. The air

Sighed faintly with its burden of perfume,

And lifted on its wings the golden light

That streamed in waving pennons, fluttering

To the slow motion of some zephyr's wing.

Night's sensitive flowers had oped their starry eyes,

Undaunted by the moon's love-looking face,

And breathed their sweetness to the gentle wind

As coyly, yet as tenderly as girls

Whisper the first confession of their love.

All 'neath that sky was loveliness and peace,