O my garden! lying 
whitely in the moon- 
light and the dew, 
Far across the leagues of 
distance flies my heart to-night 
to you, 
And I see your stately lilies in the 
tender radiance gleam, 
Witha dim, mysterious splendour, like 
the angels of a dream! 
shadows creep 
along the ivied 
wall, 
And the bosky depths 
of verdure where 
leaves fall, 
And the tall trees 
standing darkly 
with their crowns 
against the sky, 
While overhead the harvest moon 
goes slowly sailing by. .« 
Juria C. R. Dorr. 
I can see the stealthy — 
the drooping vine- 
Gaile 
