Faintly portrayed before thee, were the high,
Unwonted thoughts that thrill my wondering heart
Fitly expressed. Alas! I have no art
To body forth emotion; nor to lay
Upon the edge of words a fringe of fire:
Day turns to night, and night gives place to day.
While I am baffled in my vain desire!
Yet, haunted by the memory of the moon
And mystic stars that walk night’s gentle noon,
I string again my long-neglected lyre.