A midsummer moon-ray fell through the uncurtained lantern beneath the dome and spread in a small pool of silver at her feet.

Whether in dark eyes of the laughing child, Or in the vast white cloud that floats away, Bearing upon its breast a brown moon-ray; The universal painter, who dost fling Thy overflowing skill on everything!

Cushioned at the Queen's feet and upon her knee Finding glory for mine head,still, nearly shamed Am I, the King, to bend and kiss with sharp Breath the olive-pink of sandaled toes between; Or lift me high to the magnet of a gaze, dusky, Like the pool when but the moon-ray strikes to its depth; Or closer press to crush a grape 'gainst lips redder Than the grape, a rose in the night of her hair; ThenSharon's Rose in my arms.

She stared at him across the moon-ray, for he had gone back to the window and lifted the curtain again.

Let me inhale the breath of the clouds and the moon-rays.