The Queen of Night

Mortal, mortal, have you seen In the scented summer night, Great Astarte, clad in green With a veil of mystic light, Passing on her silent way, Pale and lovelier than day?

Mortal, mortal, have you heard, On an odorous summer eve, Rumors of an unknown word Bidding sorrow not to grieve,— Echoes of a silver voice Bidding every heart rejoice?

Mortal, when the slim new moon Hangs above the western hill, When the year comes round to June And the leafy world is still, Then, enraptured, you shall hear Secrets for a poet's ear.

Mortal, mortal, come with me, When the moon is rising large, Through the wood or from the sea, Or by some lone river marge. There, entranced, you shall behold Beauty's self, that grows not old.