For when the moon is well afloat,
Thou mellowest into amber light.”
Is each, then, fairer in its turn?
'Tis hence the music. Not for me
To wish a dayless morn, or yearn
For nightless eve—if these could be.
But give me both—the new, the old:
And let my spirit sip the wine
From silver now, and now from gold:
'Tis wine alike—alike divine!