Name:  
Email: 

	
Name:  
Email: 

She comes not when Noon is on the roses-- 
   Too bright is Day. 
She comes not to the Soul till it reposes 
   From work and play. 

But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices 
   Roll in from Sea, 
By starlight and candle-light and dreamlight 
   She comes to me.