Restless, to-night, and ill at ease, And finding every place too strait, I leave the porch shut in with trees, And wander through the garden-gate. So dark at first, I have to feel My way before me with my hands; But soul-like fragrances reveal My virgin Daphne, where she stands. Her stars of blossom breathe aloft Her worship to the stars above; In wavering pulsations soft, Climbs the sweet incense of her love; Those far, celestial eyes can dart Their glances down through leafy bars; The spark that burns within her heart Was dropped, in answer, from the stars. She does not find the space too small, The night too dark, for sweetest bloom; Content within the garden wall, Since upward there is always room. Her spotless heart, through all the night, Holds safe its little vestal spark. O blessed, if the soul be white, To breathe and blossom in the dark!
In the Dark
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