• Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
    Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
    And watching, with eternal lids apart,
    Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,
    The moving waters at their priestlike task
    Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
    Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
    Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;
    No—yet...