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Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Sonnet XVIII. To The Autumnal Moon
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Mild Splendor of the various-vested Night!
Mother of wildly-working visions! hail!
I watch thy gliding, while with watery light 
Thy weak eye glimmers through a fleecy veil;
And when thou lovest thy pale orb to shroud
Behind the gather`d blackness lost on high;
And when thou dartest from the wind-rent cloud
Thy placid lightning o`er th` awakened sky.
Ah, such is Hope! As changeful and as fair!
Now dimly peering on the wistful sight;
Now hid behind the dragon-wing`d Despair:
But soon emerging in her radiant might 
She o`er the sorrow-clouded breast of Care
Sails, like a meteor kindling in its flight.
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