Author Josephine Preston Peabody I have no word to tell youThe beauty of her face;From her, a wedding garmentWould win a grace.And as the glow of moonriseWill make the east divine,Doth Soul, the radiant dweller,Her face outshine. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 4 (2 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments