'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.