The White Witch

In the midst of the gardens, the poplar trees,
The wind whispered tales of the grazing bees;
While around the rosebush, blooming so bright,
The moon softly cast, as the still falls night.

Bright were the petals like snow in the sky,
Amidst the dark night where the wild lilies lie;
In the depth of your heart, whisper sweet is her name,
For the moonlight holds beauty, no heart could contain.

The stars keep their vigil and watch o’er the land,
In dreams, in memories, where souls understand;
With each gentle breath, feel the love’s tender touch,
As nature’s bright flowers beckon the world to clutch.

• James Weldon Johnson