XXVI.

TO THE EVENING-STAR.

When we have once said lowly "Evening-Star!" Words give no more--for, in thy silver pride, Thou shinest as naught else can shine beside: The thick smoke, coiling round the sooty bar Forever, and the customed lamp-light mar The stillness of my thought--seeing things glide So samely:--then I ope my windows wide, And gaze in peace to where thou shin'st afar. The wind that comes across the faint-white snow So freshly, and the river dimly seen, Seem like new things that never had been so Before; and thou art bright as thou hast been Since thy white rays put sweetness in the eyes Of the first souls that loved in Paradise.