But The Rose Leaves Herself

Ay, On The Shores Of Darkness There Is A Light, And Precipices Show Untrodden Green; There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight; There Is Triple Sight In Blindness Keen.

She Hurried At His Words, Beset With Fears, For There Were Sleeping Dragons All Around.

It Is A Flaw In Happiness To See Beyond Our Bourn, - It Forces Us In Summer Skies To Mourn, It Spoils The Singing Of The Nightingale.

Through Buried Paths, Where Sleepy Twilight Dreams The Summer Time Away.

She Press'd His Hand In Slumber; So Once More He Could Not Help But Kiss Her And Adore.