THE MOTH AND THE EVENING PRIMROSE
by: Danske Dandridge (1854-1914)
 HE Moth is waiting for the night
- To poise his feathered wings, untried,
- Fresh from their prison, scarcely dried,
- And trembling for the trial flight.
“The Rose is dreaming of the Bee:
Perchance my Primrose wakes for me.”
-
- The evening wears a gold zone:
- One waits and listens like the flower,
- She feels her fate and knows her hour.
The night is come, but not alone:
Love's wings are trembling on the air:
All the heart's treasure lying bare.
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"The Moth and the Evening Primrose"
is reprinted from Joy and Other Poems. Danske Dandridge.
New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1900. |
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POEMS BY DANSKE DANDRIDGE |
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