Through rifts of cloud the moon’s soft silver slips; <br /> A little rain has fallen with the night, <br />Which from the emerald under-sky still drips <br /> Where the magnolias open, broad and white. <br /> <br />So near my window I might reach my hand <br /> And touch these milky stars, that to and fro <br />Wave, odorous. . . .Yet ’t was in another land- <br /> How long ago, my love, how long ago!<br /><br />Ina D. Coolbrith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-memory-15/
