She is the vision of the evening twilight,
That falls soft down upon my dreaming mind.
In sleepless wonder I do contemplate
The mystic depths of her enchanting eyes,
And marvel at her visage framed in locks;
The essence of my moonlit trance, so bright
That now I find myself steeped far within.
For all my restless thoughts are wrought distract
With haunting beauty now that holds me fast,
And dare I let my thoughts to wonder out
Like little men to work the field of dreams
And till the garden of imagination,
I scarce could ever come back down to earth,
For she transports me to the cloudless sky,
Where heaven envies my supernal bliss
And all the stars wane by comparison
Such is the image of my love to me
Such is my fate to ever be
For she may not be mine
~j.d.schofield