When Down The West The New Moon Slipped, A Curved Canoe That Dipped And Tipped, When From The Rose The Dewdrop Dripped, As If It Shed Its Heart'S Blood Slow; As Softly Silent As A Star I Climbed A Lattice That I Know, A Window Lattice, Held Ajar By One Slim Hand As White As Snow: The Hand Of Her Who Set Me Here, A Rose, To Bloom From Year To Year. I, Who Have Heard The Bird Of June Sing All Night Long Beneath The Moon; I, Who Have Heard The Zephyr Croon Soft Music 'Mid Spring'S Avenues, Heard Then A Sweeter Sound Than These, Among The Shadows And The Dews A Heart That Beat Like Any Bee'S, Sweet With A Name And I Know Whose: Her Heart That, Leaning, Pressed On Me, A Rose, She Never Looked To See. O Star And Moon! O Wind And Bird! Ye Hearkened, Too, But Never Heard The Secret Sweet, The Whispered Word I Heard, When By Her Lips His Name Was Murmured. Then She Saw Me There! But That I Heard Was I To Blame? Whom In The Darkness Of Her Hair She Thrust Since I Had Heard The Same: Condemned Within Its Deeps To Lie, A Rose, Imprisoned Till I Die.