Time wears her not; she does our chariots guide;
And below her elliptic orb human mortality is placed.
She moves poets and prophets to their muse and verse
Who would imagine without her a night
The full-orbed moon with unchanged holy ray
At summer haze mounts up the eastern sky,
Not doomed to these short nights for aye,
But shining steadily on wide forests and sapphire bay
She does not wane, or dim but my fortune,
Which her rays do not bless,
My wayward path decline soon,
But she shines not the less
And if she faintly glimmers behind mountains crest there
And paled is her divine light,
Yet always in her proper sphere
She is the reign; the queen of the night.
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