When the rose of Morn through the Dawn was breaking,
And white on the hearth was last night's flame,
Thither to me ‘twixt sleeping and waking,
Singing out of the mists she came. ...
Heart to heart!
And the stillness of night and the moonlight, like hushed breathing
Silently, stealthily moving across thy hair!
O womanly face!
Tender and strong and lucent with infinite feeling,
Shrinking with startled joy, like wind-struck water,
And yet so frank, so unashamed of love!
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