Soft-sandalled twilight, handmaid of the night, Before her noble lady’s radiant face Doth slowly come, with gentle, quiet pace, And draweth rose and azure curtains light Around the snowy couch, so pure, so white, Whereon her mistress soon will rest. With grace Celestial she doth cover every trace Of toil, and daily soil doth hide from sight. So would I that before thy face my love Might gently move, and ever from above Such tender beauty draw about thy way That when thou liest down to nightly rest Earth-thoughts should fade, and there should only stay The peace of heaven within thy tranquil breast.
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