Who watched thy sinking but an hour gone by
Only to see thee turn thy steps again?
The drowsy birds are drooping on the trees,
The cock’s faint crow but dimly prophesies;
The weary peasant slumbers ill at ease,
And blinks and winks, half wakes and rubs his eyes.
The east it flushes wanly, as in doubt;
Foams with unrest the roused and wrathful sea;
The scared moon peeped, then turned her round about,
And fled across the heavens at sight of thee.