I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl—
I read that Foreign Lady—
The Dark—felt beautiful—
And whether it was noon at night—
Or only Heaven—at Noon—
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell—
Like writing poetry: the feeling can emerge at any hour, demanding to be written and heard. 
 Conventional depicticions of night and day seem not to fit here.
I think I was enchanted 593