Classic Poem

Look up! behold the lovely scene;
Unwonted glories shine on high.
Nurse of sweet thoughts, night's gentle queen,
Holds her grand levee in the sky.

A thousand liveried clouds attend,
In silent pomp around her wait;
Before her throne, they float and bend,
Then sail along in solemn state.

First confidant of youthful hearts,
The poet's earliest, tenderest love,
Sweet moon! what joy thy smile imparts,
Lifting the soul to realms above.

Is this thy festival to-night?
See, endless ranks of clouds arise,
To catch from thee one ray of light, —
Then disappear, like human joys.

My thoughts, while gazing on thy face,
Still catch from thee some tender hue;
Like these light clouds, each other chase,
And, passing, pay their homage too.

And memory's secret, treasured store, —
Records the lips can never tell, —
Of cherished joys, and sorrows o'er,
All waken at thy magic spell.

My heart like thee, is calm and bright,
While on they rush, an endless crowd,
Sheds, as they pass, a softened light;
Then, brightening, rises o'er the cloud.