Evening Star

by

Edgar Allan Poe


'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 gaz'd awhile

On her cold smile;

Too cold--too cold for me--

There pass'd, as a shroud,

A fleecy cloud,

And I turn'd 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 Heav'n at night,

And more I admire

Thy distant fire,

Than that colder, lowly light.


(1827)



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