And paints strange colors on the foaming sea.
The Moon, with quivering wand of silver-white,
Calls forth the fairies to their circling dance,
Bids lovers seek their never old delight,
And fills the air with perfume of romance.
Yet, Sun, thy glory passes with the day,
And Moon, the dawn destroys thy loveliness;
But thou, sweet Star o’ Love, wilt shine alway,
Nor night nor day can make thy splendor less.
Fade, lordly Sun, and Moon, forget to shine,