A Tranquil Bar Of Rosy Twilight Under Dusk'S First Star. A Glimmering Sound Of Whispering Waters Over Grassy Ground. A Sun-Sweet Smell Of Fresh-Reaped Hay From Dewy Field And Dell. A Lazy Breeze Jostling The Ripeness From The Apple-Trees. A Vibrant Cry, Passing, Then Gone, Of Bullbats In The Sky. And Faintly Now The Katydid Upon The Shadowy Bough. And Far-Off Then The Little Owl Within The Lonely Glen. And Soon, Full Soon, The Silvery Arrival Of The Moon. And, To Your Door, The Path Of Roses I Have Trod Before. And, Sweetheart, You! Among The Roses And The Moonlit Dew.