  The faint stars wake and wonder, Fade and find heart anew; Above us and far under Sphereth the watchful blue. Silent she sits, outbending, A wild pathetic grace, A beauty strange, heart-rending, Upon her hair and face. O spirit cries that sever The cricket's level drone! O to give o'er endeavor And let love have its own! Within the mirrored bushes There wakes a little stir; The white-throat moves, and hushes Her nestlings under her. Beneath, the lustrous river, The watchful sky o'erhead. God, God, that Thou should'st ever Poison thy children's bread! |
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