 | Along the trail |  |
37
NOCTURNE
White, white I remember her—
White from her forehead to her feet.
The moonlight falling through the pane
Was not so white, was not so sweet.
White from her forehead to her feet.
The moonlight falling through the pane
Was not so white, was not so sweet.
She was a pool of moonlight there
Between the window and the wall,
And the slow minutes bathed in her
And went away beyond recall.
Between the window and the wall,
And the slow minutes bathed in her
And went away beyond recall.
1898
| Along the trail | |