midnight
Come to me ! -- I will flood thy silent shine With my soul 's sacred wine , And heap thy marble floors As the wild spice-trees waste their fragrant stores In leafy islands walled with madrepores And lapped in Orient seas , When all their feathery palm toss , plume-like , in the breeze . Come to me ! -- thou shalt feed on honied words , Sweeter than song of birds ; -- No wailing bulbul 's throat , No melting dulcimer 's melodious note , When o'er the midnight wave its murmurs float , Thy ravished sense might soothe With flow so liquid-soft , with strain so velvet-smooth . Thou shalt be decked with jewels , like a queen , Sought in those bowers of green Where loop the clustered vines And the close-clinging dulcamara twines , -- Pure pearls of Maydew where the moonlight shines , And Summer 's fruited gems , And coral pendants shorn from Autumn 's berried stems . Sit by me drifting on the sleepy waves , -- Or stretched by grass-grown graves , Whose gray , high-shouldered stones , Carved with old names Life 's time-worn roll disowns , Lean , lichen-spotted , o'er the crumbled bones Still slumbering where they lay While the sad Pilgrim watched to scare the wolf away . Spread o'er my couch thy visionary wing !