When twilight folds the daylight into blue,

And hushes earth with cool, untroubled grace,

The moon ascends with ancient, tender hue,

A lantern lifted in the darkened space.

She wears the borrowed fire of distant suns,

Yet makes it hers with quiet, patient glow;

Around her scattered light in fragments runs—

A thousand stars in trembling aftershow.

They pierce the velvet canopy of night,

Small prophets burning through the endless deep,

Each one a vow of unextinguished light

That guards the dreams the weary world would keep.

O moon and stars, in silent choir above,

You write in fire the hidden script of love.