The Day-Moon

So wan, so unavailing, Across the vacant day-blue dimly trailing!

Last night, sphered in thy shining, A Circe--mystic destinies divining;

To-day but as a feather Torn from a seraph's wing in sinful weather,

Down-drifting from the portals Of Paradise, unto the land of mortals.

Yet do I feel thee awing My heart with mystery, as thy updrawing

Moves thro' the tides of Ocean And leaves lorn beaches barren of its motion;

Or strands upon near shallows The wreck whose weirded form at night unhallows

The fisher maiden's prayers-- "For him!--that storms may take not unawares!"

So wan, so unavailing, Across the vacant day-blue dimly trailing!

But Night shall come atoning Thy phantom life thro' day, and high enthroning

Thee in her chambers arrassed With star-hieroglyphs, leave thee unharassed

To glide with silvery passion, Till in earth's shadow swept thy glowings ashen.