A MEMORY
The night walked down the sky
With the moon in her hand;
By the light of that yellow lantern
I saw you stand.
The hair that swept your shoulders
Was yellow, too,
Your feet as they touched the grasses
Shamed the dew.
The Night wore all her jewels,
And you wore none,
But your gown had the odor of lilies
Drenched with sun.
And never was Eve of the Garden
Or Mary the Maid
More pure than you as you stood there
Bold, yet afraid.
And the sleeping birds woke, trembling,
And the folded flowers were aware,
And my senses were faint with the fragrant
Gold of your hair.
And our lips found ways of speaking
What words cannot say,
Till a hundred nests gave music,
And the East was gray.
Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]