Moon! if e'er thy broader light
Helpëd lover's prayer by night;
Now Eclipse hath veiled thee over,
Doubly—doubly—help a lover.
Let thy beams, that shrouded be,
Win to a like mystery.
Now, when stars alone do shine,
Bid my Loved One's brow incline—
Sweet Obscurer!—over mine.
Then, while chaste avowal slips
From her—hereto—guarded lips,
I will bless each bland Eclipse.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010