“The suns are ever setting.”
Then, gazing back with longing soon,
At once my step grew bolder;
For, bright and new, I spied the moon
Just over my right shoulder.
I turn’d about and bade her look;
We were not superstitious;
We jok’d about that shining hook,
Bright bait, and skies auspicious.
We joked, but, oh, I thought with woe,