August 31, 2011

I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,
His was a still and lovely face,
He wandered through a valley
  steep,
 Lovely in a lonely place.


His garb was gray lavender,
About his brows a poppy-wreath
Burned like dim coals, and every-
  where
 The air was sweeter for his
     breath.


from Walter de la Mare's  I MET AT EVE