Move eastward, happy earth, and leave 
Yon orange sunset waning slow: 
From fringes of the faded eve, 
O, happy planet, eastward go: 
Till over thy dark shoulder glow 
Thy silver sister world, and rise 
To glass herself in dewey eyes 
That watch me from the glen below. 

Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne, 
Dip forward under starry light, 
And move me to my marriage-morn, 
And round again to happy night.