In Happy Grandeur Swept The Moon Poem by Alexander Anderson

In happy grandeur swept the moon,
Her whispers on the silent trees,
While ever like a distant tune
In murmurs came the breeze.


And she was with me in her life
And beauty as the angels are,
As far apart from sin and strife
As earth from heaven's star.


We stood, as if all human ties
Were broken by the magic pow'r
That fell upon us from the skies
In such a plenteous dow'r.


It seemed as if all things of light,
And purity, and love, were near;
While we, but mortals in their sight,
Could only stand and fear.


We stood until her fingers crept
All tremblingly within my own;
And, looking down, I saw she wept,
For in a tremulous tone


She whisper'd, letting droop her head,
And, clasping me as if no bar
Could ever part us two, she said—
'Dear love, behold that star.'


I turn'd me, half-inclined to fears,
And, marking all its happy hue,
I whisper'd to her—'Dry thy tears,
Its beams are on us two.'


She spoke not, answer'd not, and now,
When all is pass'd, and she has fled
To join the brightness of her brow
To that one star o'erhead:


I come and gaze in silent awe
Upon it as it glows above,
As if within its beams I saw
The lost light of my love.