or to display her beauty in any
other light.

'"The first night I saw it in flower, I was conscious of a
peculiar delight, I may even say rapture. Many white flowers
are far more beautiful by day; the lily, for instance, with
its firm, thick leaf, needs the broadest light to manifest its
purity. But these transparent leaves of greenish white, which
look dull in the day, are melted by the moon to glistening
silver. And not only does the plant not appear in its destined
hue by day, but the flower, though, as bell-shaped, it cannot
quite close again after having once expanded, yet presses its
petals together as closely as it can, hangs down its little
blossoms, and its tall stalk seems at noon to have reared
itself only to betray a shabby insignificance. Thus, too,
with the leaves, which have burst asunder suddenly like the
fan-palm to make way for the stalk,--their edges in the day
time look ragged and unfinished, as if nature had left them
in a hurry for some more pleasing task. On the day after
the evening when I had thought it so beautiful, I could not
conceive how I had made such a mistake.

'"But the second evening I went out into the garden again. In
clearest moonlight stood my flower, more beautiful than ever.
The stalk pierced the air like a spear, all the little bells
had erected themselves around it in most graceful array, with
petals more transparent than silver, and of softer light
than the diamond. Their edges were clearly, but not sharply
defined. They seemed to have been made by the moon's rays. The
leaves, which had looked ragged by day, now seemed fringed by
most delicate gossamer, and the plant might claim with pride
its distinctive epithet of Filamentosa. I looked at it till
my feelings became so strong that I longed to share it. The
thought which filled my mind was that here we saw the type of
pure feminine beauty in the moon's own flower. I have since
had further opportunity of watching the Yuca, and verified
these observations, that she will not flower till the full
moon, and chooses to hide her beauty from the eye of day."

'Might not this be made into a true poem, if written out
merely as history of the plant, and no observer introduced?
How finely it harmonizes with all legends of Isis, Diana, &c.!
It is what I tried to say in the sonnet,