Classic Poem

O when, with weary limbs, we lose
The light, with day-time's thousand hues,
And when, from shady shapes of night,
We shut in sleep our weary sight,
All heedless how the stars may light
The hoary fogs of airy night;
To light the road for later eyes
The lofty moon then climbs the skies,
And southern sides of boughs grow bright
Above the darksome shades of night,
Where cheeks in glimm'ring gloom may hide
Their glowing by a sweetheart's side;
As when in younger years we took
Home you up hill beyond the brook,
With lightsome limbs all skipping through
The leazes wet with sparkling dew,
Below the shining moon that show'd

The sharp-edg'd hollows nigh our road,
With wan light on the water's face
To warn us off the darksome place,
Where more than one had miss'd their ground
On moonless evenings, and been drown'd.
There lengthen'd shadows, lying dim
Below the gravelpit's sharp brim,
Marked out its form, lest folk should go
And fall o'er headlong down below;
And show'd us plainly where the planks
Were placed athwart the gullies' banks,
And hard things stood to hit the eyes
Of heads abroad with lightless skies.

So, when the dusk of day is gone,
The duller moon comes slowly on,
Up-rising round her star-bound bow
For roving mortals here below.
But still, of light that she has lent
To lead me on the ways I went,
The welcomest to me was while
I watch'd my Fanny's parting smile,
As she bestow'd outstanding nigh
The stone at door her sweet ‘Good bye,’
With moon-bright forehead, marble fair,
Among her locks of sloe-black hair,
That wav'd in summer winds before
The wall-side jessamine at door,
In seemly loops between my sight
And some pale star of early night.