moonless-passing

Updated: May 5, 2025

From the dark The floating smell of flowers invisible, The mystic yearning of the garden wet, The moonless-passing night into his brain Wandered, until he rose and outward leaned In the dim summer; 'twas the moment deep When we are conscious of the secret dawn, Amid the darkness that we feel is green.... When the long day that glideth without cloud, The summer day, was at her deep blue hour Of lilies musical with busy bliss, Whose very light trembled as with excess, And heat was frail, and every bush and flower Was drooping in the glory overcome;

William Lyon Phelps - The Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century