Poems (Bushnell)/In the Dark

by Frances Louisa Bushnell

For works with similar titles, see In the Dark.

III IN THE DARK

Restless, to-night, and ill at ease,
 And finding every place too strait,
I leave the porch shut in with trees,
 And wander through the garden-gate.

So dark at first, I have to feel
 My way before me with my hands;
But soul-like fragrances reveal
 My virgin Daphne, where she stands.

Her stars of blossom breathe aloft
 Her worship to the stars above;
In wavering pulsations soft,
 Climbs the sweet incense of her love;

Those far, celestial eyes can dart
 Their glances down through leafy bars;
The spark that burns within her heart
 Was dropped, in answer, from the stars.

She does not find the space too small,
 The night too dark, for sweetest bloom;
Content within the garden wall,
 Since upward there is always room.

Her spotless heart, through all the night,
 Holds safe its little vestal spark.
O blessed, if the soul be white,
 To breathe and blossom in the dark!