Night,
and the yellow pleasure of candle-light....
old brown books and the kind, fine face of the clock
fogged in the veils of the fire - it's cuddling tock.
...
SHE looked on me with sadder eyes than Death,
And, moving through the large, autumnal trees,
Failed like a phantom on the bitter breath
Of midnight; and the unillumined seas
...
SHE is more sparkling beautiful
Than dawn-light seen thro’ tears
The weeping worlds of Paradise
Shed down upon the spheres.
Her eyes a ...
...