More dim than wining moon
Thy face, mort faint
Than is the falling wind
Thy voice, yet do
Thine eyes most strangely glow,
Thou host . . thou ghost.
More dim than wining moon
Thy face, mort faint
Than is the falling wind
Thy voice, yet do
Thine eyes most strangely glow,
Thou host . . thou ghost.
© Adelaide Crapsey