4 bits for a treasure

Another acquisition for the poetry book collection and a snippet from its pages.

"She's pretty?"

                                                        "Decidedly so.
At least, so she was, some ten summers ago.
As soft, and as sallow as Autumn -- with hair
Neither black, nor yet brown, but that tinge which the air
Takes at eve in September, when night lingers lone
Through a vineyard, from the beams of a slow-setting sun.
Eyes --the wistful gazelle's; the fine foot of a fairy;
And a hand fit a fay's wand to wave, -- white and airy;
A voice soft and sweet as a tune that one knows,
Something in her there was, set you thinking of those
Strange backgrounds of Raphael ... that hectic and deep
Brief twilight in which the southern suns fall asleep."

Meredith