Vi

Moths flutter around them. She speaks:

Look!--where the fiery Glow-worm in briery Banks of the moon-mellowed bowers Sparkles--how hazily Pinioned and airily Delicate, warily, Drowsily, lazily, Flutter the moths to the flowers.

White as the dreamiest Bud of the creamiest Rose in the garden that dozes, See how they cling to them! Held in the heart of their Hearts, like a part of their Perfume, they swing to them Wings that are soft as a rose is.

Dim as the forming of Dew in the warming of Moonlight, they light on the petals; All is revealed to them; All!--from the sunniest Tips to the honiest Heart, whence they yield to them Spice, through the darkness that settles.

So to our tremulous Souls come the emulous Agents of love; through whose power All that is best in us, All that is beautiful, Selfless and dutiful, Is manifest in us, Even as the scent of a flower.