'Twas noontide of summer,
 And mid-time of night;
 And stars, in their orbits,
 Shone pale, thro' the light
 Of the brighter, cold moon,
 'Mid planets her slaves,
 Herself in the Heavens,
 Her beam on the waves.
 I gazed awhile
 On her cold smile;
 Too cold- too cold for me-
 There pass'd, as a shroud,
 A fleecy cloud,
 And I turned away to thee,
 Proud Evening Star,
 In thy glory afar,
 And dearer thy beam shall be;
 For joy to my heart
 Is the proud part
 Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
 And more I admire
 Thy distant fire,
 Than that colder, lowly light.