POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
THROUGH THE WINDOW NEAR HIS BED
Through the window near his bed,
On his tousled head,
All her magic on the sprite
Poured the Lady of the night.
Down a ladder came the lad
With the moonlight mad;
Down a ladder from his room
To the moonlit garden's gloom.
White with light was every limb—
Moonlight maddened him
As he nakedly came down
To the garden's moonlit frown.
Trod he underneath the trees
With a sprightly ease,
While the moonlight on his face
Lingered with a winged grace.
Thus he came to know the smart
In the trembling heart,
When that cruel bee, the moon
Stings one in her midnight noon.
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