THE MOTH
ISLED in the midnight air,Musked with the dark's faint bloom,Out into glooming and secret hauntsThe flame cries, 'Come!'Lovely in dye and fan,A-tremble in shimmering grace,A moth from her winter swoonUplifts her face:Stares from her glamorous eyes;Wafts her on plumes like mist;In ecstasy swirls and swaysTo her strange tryst.
ISLED in the midnight air,Musked with the dark's faint bloom,Out into glooming and secret hauntsThe flame cries, 'Come!'Lovely in dye and fan,A-tremble in shimmering grace,A moth from her winter swoonUplifts her face:Stares from her glamorous eyes;Wafts her on plumes like mist;In ecstasy swirls and swaysTo her strange tryst.
ISLED in the midnight air,Musked with the dark's faint bloom,Out into glooming and secret hauntsThe flame cries, 'Come!'
ISLED 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 swoonUplifts her face:
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 swaysTo her strange tryst.
Stares from her glamorous eyes;
Wafts her on plumes like mist;
In ecstasy swirls and sways
To her strange tryst.