Skip to content
1876–1944

LADY OF LIGHT

Helen Hay Whitney

Light of the World, what are violets but eyes of you, Perfume, your hair blowing back on the breeze, Ah, but the fugitive dainty surprise of you, Pricking in green on the blossomy trees.

Give me the sun of your smile to be fire to me, Give me the moon when the passion is gone, Give me the light to be dream and desire to me Down the dark alleys that lead to the dawn.

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.