TO THE MOON.
Spirit of heaven! shadow-mantled queen,
In mildest beauty peering in the sky,
Radiant with light! 'Tis sweet to see thee lean,
As if to listen, from cloud-worlds on high,
Whilst murmuring nightingales voluptuously
Breathe their soft melody, and dew-drops lie
Upon the myrtle blooms and oaken leaves,
And the winds sleep in sullen peacefulness!
Oh! it is then that gentle Fancy weaves
The vivid visions of the soul, which bless
The poet's mind, and with sweet phantasies,
Like grateful odours shed refreshfully
From angels' wings of glistening beauty, tries
To waken pleasure, and to stifle sighs!