Whence they arose, they’ve sunk to rest;
The sunset storm is o’er.
The clouds that were so wildly driven
Across the darkened brow of heaven
Are gone, and Even
Comes in her mild and sober guise,
Her perfumed air, her trembling skies,
And Luna, with her star-gemmed, glorious crown,
From her high throne in heaven, upon the world looks down.