An Incident

The sighs of summer night, were sweet without, As the breath of spirits, on the folded roses, The sweet moon, like a young and timid bride, Came softly trembling through the eastward oaks— Where I espied a Glorious Beauty standing, Glowing and bright, in a portico vine-wreathed. Shaken by wrestling Hope and Doubt within, I quickly slid unto her side; and she Wore no dark frown—but smiled—she smiled on me! Her white brows shone amid her darkest hair, Like that moon's beams amid the opening gloom: And her slight, delicate shape would shame the limbs Of fairies tripping on the moonlit green. And she did smile on me—that Glorious Beauty! And I stood there, and clasped her lily hands! And I did peer into her lustrous eyes! And they gave back my ardent gaze of love! She spake—the tremulous accents of her voice Was like a sweet stream breaking upon rocks; And when the music of those thrilling words, Rushed on my soul—I sank upon her bosom, And felt that we could part no more on earth.