The preconscious moment when love has fluttered in the bosom,
Before it begins to ache?
How often have we seen the even
Melt into the liquidity of twilight,
With passages of Titian splendour,
Pellucid preludes, exquisitely tender,
Where vanish and revive, thro' veils of the ashes of roses,
The crystal forms the breathless sky discloses.
The new moon a slender thing,
In a snood of virgin light,