O USELESS moon, withdraw thy jealous face,
Or let yon cloud obscure thee; thou great star
Turned pale with envy, shine no more afar,
But in night's mantle bury thy disgrace!
From zenith to horizon, - all the place
From east to west, - yon throbbing glory holds,
And all the north in quivering whiteness folds;
And e'en the southern skies have caught a trace
Of its magnificence; see how it blows
Like wind made visible, with now a flicker,
And then a dazzling blaze! Now darting quicker
Than lightning, now a peaceful gleam it throws, -
A heavenly banner raised for men on high!
An angel's garment trailing through the sky!
B.
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