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Mary Darby Robinson - Ode to the Moon
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 PALE GODDESS of the witching hour;
    Blest Contemplation`s placid friend; 
  Oft in my solitary bow`r,
I mark thy lucid beam
    From thy crystal car descend,
Whitening the spangled heath, and limpid sapphire stream. 

  And oft, amidst the shades of night
  I court thy undulating light;
    When Fairies dance around the verdant ring,
    Or frisk beside the bubbling spring,
When the thoughtless SHEPHERD`S song
    Echoes thro` the silent air,
    As he pens his fleecy care,
Or plods with saunt`ring gait, the dewy meads along. 

CHASTE ORB! as thro` the vaulted sky
    Feath`ry clouds transparent sail; 
  When thy languid, weeping eye,
    Sheds its soft tears upon the painted vale; 
  As I ponder o`er the floods,
  Or tread with listless step, th`embow`ring woods,
  O, let thy transitory beam,
  Soothe my sad mind, with FANCY`S aëry dream. 

  Wrapt in REFLECTION, let me trace 
  O`er the vast ethereal space, 
  Stars, whose twinkling fires illume 
  Dark-brow`d NIGHT`S obtrusive gloom; 
  Where across the concave wide; 
  Flaming METEORS swiftly glide; 
  Or along the milky way, 
  Vapours shoot a silvery ray;
And as I mark, thy faint reclining head, 
  Sinking on Ocean`s pearly bed;
Let REASON tell my soul, thus all things fade. 

  The Seasons change, the "garish SUN"
  When Day`s burning car hath run
    Its fiery course, no more we view,
  While o`er the mountain`s golden head,
    Streak`d with tints of crimson hue,
    Twilight`s filmy curtains spread,
Stealing o`er Nature`s face, a desolating shade. 

  Yon musky FLOW`R, that scents the earth;
The SOD, that gave its odours birth; 
  The ROCK, that breaks the torrent`s force; 
  The VALE, that owns its wand`ring course; 
  The woodlands where the vocal throng 
  Trill the wild melodious song; 
  Thirsty desarts, sands that glow, 
  Mountains, cap`d with flaky snow; 
  Luxuriant groves, enamell`d fields,
  All, all, prolific Nature yields,
  Alike shall end; the sensate HEART,
    With all its passions, all its fire,
  Touch`d by FATE`S unerring dart,
    Shall feel its vital strength expire;
  Those eyes, that beam with FRIENDSHIP`S ray,
    And glance ineffable delight,
  Shall shrink from LIFE`S translucid day, 
And close their fainting orbs, in DEATH`S impervious night. 

  Then what remains for mortal pow`r;
    But TIME`S dull journey to beguile;
  To deck with joy, the winged hour,
    To meet its sorrows with a patient smile; 
And when the toilsome pilgrimage shall end, 
To greet the tyrant, as a welcome friend.
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