Classic Poem

The moon--how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again & with a steady gaze
'Tis there indeed--but where is it not--
It is suffused o'er all the sapphire Heaven,
Trees, herbage, snake-like Stream, unwrinkled Lake,
Whose very murmur does of it partake/
And low & close the broad smooth mountain
Is more a thing of Heaven than when
Distinct by one dim shade
yet undivided from the universal cloud
In which it towers, infinite in height/--