'Twas noontide of summer,
        And mid-time of night;
        And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' 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 pass'd, 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.