Explore "Nocturne: In Provence" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The blue night, like an angel, came into the room, -- / Came through the open window from the silent sky / Down trellised stairs of moonlight into the dear room / As if a whisper breathed of some divine one nigh. / The nightingales, like brooks of song in Paradise, / Gurgled their serene rapture to the silent sky -- / Like springs of laughter bubbling up in Paradise, / The serene nightingales along the riverside / Purled low in every tree their star-cool melodies / Of joy -- in every tree along the riverside.
Did the vain garments melt in music from your side? / Did you rise from them as a lily flowers i' the air? / -- But you were there before me like the Night's own bride -- / I dared not call you mine. So still and tall you were, / I never dreamed that you were mine -- I never dreamed / I loved you -- I forgot I loved you. You were air / And music, and the shadows that you stood in, seemed / Like priests that keep their sombre vigil round a shrine -- / Like sombre priests that watch about a glorious shrine.