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© Joan Currie - My Valentine Roses

She comes not when Noon is on the roses —
Too bright is Day.
She comes not to the Soul till it reposes
From work and play.

But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices
Roll in from Sea,
By starlight and by candlelight and dreamlight
She comes to me.
by Herbert Trench 

The sweet fragrance of last night lingers…