Excerpt from A Pomander of Verse The enchanted portals of her palace stand, And there her sleepless sentinels are set. All round grow forests of white eglantine And drooping, dreaming clematis there blows The purple nightshade; there pale bindweeds twine And there the pale, frail flower of slumber grows. Her palaces are decked with gleaming wings, Hung o'er with webs through spacious bower and hall, Filled through and through with precious price less things She is their mistress and she hates them all. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.