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'Twas
noontide of summer,
And midtime of night,
And
stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, through the
light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
'Mid planets
her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on
the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold-too cold for me--
There passed, as a
shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to
thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at
night.,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.
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