Adown the mountain-side she stepped,
With gentle mien and dignified;
And when they saw her, sunbeams gay,
All flushed and tired from hours of play,
Ran out across the sky, and crept
Into her arms to hide.
With gentle hand she gathered them,
And folded them away like flowers;
And from the east she swiftly slipped,
All starry-eyed and crimson-lipped;
And from her garment's purple hem
Dew dropped in diamond showers.
The purple softness of her gown
Trails deepening shadow everywhere.
But through the folds a shining star
Shows where the sleepy sunbeams are;
And the summer moon, a silver crown,
Lies crescent in her hair.
And o'er the earth her breath is sweet
Of June rose-fragrance, soft and light.
She casts a magic over all -
No leaf-blades stir, no petals fall;
The world in silence waits to meet
The Lady of the Night.