And whiter grows the foam, The small moon lightens more; And as I turn me home, My shadow walks before.

I have loved flowers that fade, Within those magic tents Rich hues have marriage made With sweet unmemoried scents.

Thick on the woodland floor Gay company shall be, Primrose and Hyacinth And frail Anemone, Perennial Strawberry-bloom, Woodsorrel's pencilled veil, Dishevel'd Willow-weed And Orchis purple and pale.

Were I a cloud I'd gather My skirts up in the air, And fly well know whither, And rest I well know where.

To me at least was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

That he is invited, that is one thing, that we sell airplanes that is normal, but to spend an evening partying and dancing with him, that is intolerable.