It was the late summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, throwing light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
The 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 pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to see,
Proud Evening Star,
In your glory afar,
And dearer her beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
You shine in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Your distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light