TO THE EVENING STAR.
Bright eye of pensive eve! resplendent orb
That o’er the misty mountains shinest clear;
Like a rich gem,
Upon an Æthiop’s brow!
Thy lamp serene, my now benighted steps
Directs, to that blest spot where dwells my fair,
Twin rivals who can boast
More pure, more bright than thee.
For not thy lovely light, that kindly cheers
The sullen frown of unpropitious night;
Is half so sweet as truth,
That beams in beauty’s eyes.
Not all the little waking elves, that rise
From out their rosy bow’rs of velvet buds,
Where they had slept the day,
To dance thy rays beneath,
Feel such delight as does this breast, when thou
With radiant lustre shew’st the happy hour,
That leads from scenes of care
To still domestic bliss.