The Moth
Isled in the midnight air, Musked with the dark's faint bloom, Out into glooming and secret haunts The flame cries, 'Come!' Lovely in dye and fan, A-tremble in shimmering grace, A moth from her winter swoon Uplifts her face: Stares from her glamorous eyes; Wafts her on plumes like mist; In ecstasy swirls and sways To her strange tryst.
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"Isled in the midnight air,..."
This evocative piece by Walter De La Mare, titled "The Moth", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...