A Hint for a Fable

SUN , Moon, and Stars, one day contending sought
Which should be dearest to a poet's thought.
The noonday Sun too bright and gay was found,
In trance of restless joy it whirls us round.
The Moon, too melting soft, unmans the heart,
Or peeps too slily where its curtains part,
Or sweeps too wild across the stormy heaven,
Behind the rushing clouds at random driven.
Take Sun and Moon who list; I dearer prize
The pure keen starlight with its thousand eyes,
Like heavenly sentinels around us thrown,
Lest we forget that we are not alone;
Watching us by their own unearthly light
To shew how high above our deeds are still in sight.
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.