You know the bloom, unearthly white, <br />That none has seen by morning light- <br />The tender moon, alone, may bare <br />Its beauty to the secret air. <br />Who'd venture past its dark retreat <br />Must kneel, for holy things and sweet, <br />That blossom, mystically blown, <br />No man may gather for his own <br />Nor touch it, lest it droop and fall.... <br />Oh, I am not like that at all!<br /><br />Dorothy Parker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-evening-primrose/
