Tuesday, August 30, 2011

August 31, 2011

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

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

from Walter de la Mare's  I MET AT EVE

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