Classic Poem

I see, in the garden border,
A dream of beauty there,
For the white Rose blooms in order
That the Moon may call her fair.

In the tangled garden, lonely,
No other bloom is nigh:
The trellised Roses, only,
And the White Rose in the sky.

And all the night is sleeping
Except the whippoorwill,
And the distant mountains keeping
A drowsy vigil still.

Come out to the garden, lover,
And drink the dreaming Rose,
And bid the Moon discover
The secret that she knows.

Then turn to the lady tender
And read, in her eyes' love-light,
The meaning they surrender
Of the Rose, and the Moon, and the Night.