Page:Veil other poems .djvu/48

 SLED in the midnight air, Musked with the dark's faint bloom, Out into glooming and secret haunts The flame cries, 'Come!'

Lovely in dye and fan, A-tremble in shimmering grace, A moth from her winter swoon Uplifts her face:

Stares from her glamorous eyes; Wafts her on plumes like mist; In ecstasy swirls and sways To her strange tryst.