Whose silver lamp in chastened splendor burns,
Trimmed by the hand that fashioned thee so fair,
And sent thee forth on thy eternal way,
The nearest and the brightest to our eyes
Of Heavens innumerable host—sail on
Thy joyous way, in beauty ’mid the stars,
And catch the song of those bright sentinels,
Who watch the outposts on the bounds of time,
Sending in vain their rays to pierce the gloom
Of drear immensity. The lover’s eye—