dim" because it is night;
and in the night the beautifully dressed maiden seems like a splendid
moth--the name given to night butterflies in England. In England the moths
are much more beautiful than the true butterflies; they have wings of
scarlet and purple and brown and gold. So the comparison, though
peculiarly English, is very fine. Also there is a suggestion of the
soundlessness of the moth's flight. Now "showy as damask rose" is a
striking simile only because the damask-rose is a wonderfully splendid
flower--richest in colour of all roses in English gardens. "Shy as musk"
is rather a daring simile. "Musk" is a perfume used by English as well as
Japanese ladies, but there is no perfume which must be used with more
discretion, carefulness. If you use ever so little too much, the effect is
not pleasant. But if you use exactly the proper quantity, and no more,
there is no perfume which is more lovely. "Shy as musk" thus refers to
that kind of girlish modesty which never commits a fault even by the
measure of a grain--beautiful shyness incapable of being anything but
beautiful. Nevertheless the comparison must be confessed one which should
be felt rather than explained.

The second of the three promised quotations shall be from Robert Browning.
There is one feeling, not often touched upon by poets, yet peculiar to
lovers, that is here treated--the desire when you are very happy or when
you are looking at anything attractive to share the pleasure of the moment
with the beloved. But it seldom happens that the wish and the conditions
really meet. Referring to this longing Browning made a short lyric that is
now a classic; it is among the most dainty things of the century.

Never the time and the place
And the loved one all together!
This path--how soft to pace!
This May--what magic weather!
Where is the loved one's face?
In a dream that loved one's face meets mine,
But the house is narrow, the place is bleak
Where, outside, rain and wind combine
With a furtive ear, if I try to speak,
With a hostile eye at my flushing cheek,
With a malice that marks each word, each sign!

Never can we have things the way we wish in this world--a beautiful day, a
beautiful place, and the presence of the beloved all at the same time.
Something is always missing; if the place be beautiful, the weather
perhaps is bad. Or if the weather and the place both happen to be perfect,
the woman is absent. So the poet fi