“The white saucer like some full moon descends At last from the clouds of the table above; She sighs and dreams and thrills and glows, Transfigured with love. She nestles over the shining rim, Buries her chin in the creamy… — Harold Monro Copy Share Image
The white saucer like some full moon descends / At last from the clouds of the table above. — Harold Monro Copy Share Image
