At midnight, in the month of June,I stand beneath the mystic moon.An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,Exhales from out her golden rim.
The dewy grass was too slick for football.
Dowie could scarcely have told what phrase or word at last suddenly brought up before her a picture of the nursery in the house in Mayfair—the feeling of a warm soft childish body pressed close to her knee, the look of a tender, dewy-eyed small face and the sound of a small yearning voice saying: I want to kiss you, Dowie..
Bill Clinton has never shied away from displays of dewy-eyed, lip-biting sentimentality.